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■■--; ":. ' '■< i 



VOL. Ill 




Printed by Ballanttne, Hanson & Co. 
At tbe BaUantyne I'nKs 








BILL, UlBS O.L.. . • • .The Bains of the Hauran . • • April 105 
BniDLOSS, Habold • • • • Nigeria and its Trade • • . • June 67 

CALDBBOir, O. L. The Wrong Tolstoi May 189 

I Childbbs, Ebskikb • t t • Belations between Officers and lien on 

' ( Active Service May 54 

CHOLMOirDBLBT, MI88 Mabt . ' An Art in its Infancy .... June 79 
CoiiOMB, 8IB J. C. B., K.C.M.G., M.P. The War Office, the Admiralty, and the 

Coaling Stations • • • . June 27 

De Mauldb la ClaviIbbe, B. . . Beflections on the Art of Life . . . April 147 

^ Du Gahb, Majob-Gbk. Sib E., K.C.B. The Civil Service and Beform . . . April 21 

Editobial ABTI0LB8 • • . . A Great Debate April 1 

Investment, Trade and Gambling • • May 1 

^ The Pyramid of Studies • • • . June 1 

i On the Line • . April 11, May 12, June 16 

Bllib, Havblook .... The Distribution of British Ability • . April 91 

Fbt, Bogbb B Florentine Painting of the Fourteenth 

Century June 112 

Galbatus Field Guns— II May 26 

HABTLAin), E. SiDKBT • • . The Native Problem in Our New 

Colonies April 73 

HOPB, AKTHONT • . . . . Tristram of Blent . April 165, May 163, June 165 
Hutchinson, Hobaoe G. • . • The Evolution of the Englishman • . April 136 

JOHK8ON, Mbs. H. 6 Lady Hesketh and ** Johnny of Norfolk" May 152 

Macpablakb, H The Lost Art of Catching • . . May 142 

Mabdon, Evelyn J Trade and the Administration in British 

East Africa May 72 

MooBB, T. Stuboe . . • • The Defence of Beynolds • . . April 120 
Nelson, The Eabl . ... The Administration of Patriotic Funds . April 51 
Nbwbolt, Hbnbt • . • . The Bomance of a Song-Book • • • June 185 
" Peg Chbisto bt Eoolbsia," The 

AUTBOB OF The Protestantism of Christ . . . May 98 

BO6COB, Sib Henbt E. ... The Outiook for British Trade^II. . May 40 



Round. J. Hobace • . . . 
SicHSL, Miss Edith .... 

Thomson^ H. C 

Waldsteik, Pbofbssob G. 
Wabben, T. H., Pbesident of Mag- 
dalen College, Ozfobd . 
Wedgwood, The Hon. Mbs. 
Williams, Basil .... 
Wolff, Henbt W. , . , , 



Companiong of the Conqueror . • • June 91 

Charlotte Yong^e as a Chronicler . • May 88 

The Policy of the Powers in China . • June 41 

Becently DiBcovered Greek Masterpieces May 110 

Gray and Dante 
Spring : A Sonnet • 
Volunteer Efficiency . 
German Anglophobia 
Sir Robert Hart on China 

. June 147 
. April 164 
. June 58 
. April 68 
. April 37 


AdminiBtraUon of Patriotic Funds, The • 
Admiralty (Me Coaling Stations) • • 

An Art in its Infancy 

Anglopliobia, German • • . • 
Art of Catching, The Lost . 
Art of Life, Befiections on the . • . 
British Ability, The Distribution of . 
British East Africa, Trade and the Adminis- 
tration in . • • • . . 
British Trade, The Outlook for—-lI. . 
Catching, The Lost Art of . 
China, The Policy of the Powers in . 

„ , Sir Bobert Hart on • • 
Christ, the Protestantism of • 

Civil Service and Beform, The . 
Coaling Stations, The War Office, the 
Admiralty, and the • • . . 
Companions of the Conqueror • 
Dante, Gray and • • • . • 

The Eabl Kelson • 

Miss Mabt Cholmondxlet 

Henbt W, Wolfp . 

H. Haofablake 

B. DB Mauldb la Claviebb 

Hayblock Ellis . 

E. J. Mabdon . 

Sib Henbt E. Bosoob . 

H. Macfablanb 

H. C. Thomson . 

Capt. F. E. Younghusband, C 


April 51 

• June 79 
. April 58 
. May H2 
. April 147 
. April 91 

. May 72 
. May 40 
. May 142 
• June 41 
I.E. . April 37 

Debate, A Great 

Distribution of British AbUity, The . 
Evolution of the Englishman, The • • 

Field Guns—II 

Florentine Painting of the Fourteenth 


German Anglophobia . • • • • 
Gray and Dante 

Greek Masterpieces, Becently Discovered . 
Hart, Sir Bobert, on China 

The Authob of ** Pbo Chbisto bt 

ECCLESIA " • • . • . May 98 
Majob-Gen. Sib E. Du Cane, K.C.B. April 21 

Sib J. C. B. Colomb, E.C.M.G., M.P. June 27 
J. HoBACE Bound .... June 91 
The Pbesident of Maqdalen 

College, Oxfobd . . . June 147 

April 1 

Havelock Ellis .... April 91 
HoBAOE G. Hutchinson . . . AprU 136 

Galeatus May 26 

BOGEB £. Fbt June 112 

H. W. Wolff April 58 

The Pbesident of Magdalen 

College, Oxfobd • . . June 147 
Pbof. C. Waldstein. . . . May 110 
Caft. F. E. Younghusband, CLE. . April 87 



Hauran, The Buios of the . • Miss G. L. Bell • • • . April 105 

Investmenti Trade and Gambling «... May 1 

Lady Heaketh and " Johnny of Norfolk " . Mbs. H. B. Johnson , • • • May 152 

Lost Art of Catching, The . . , , H. Macfablane .... May 142 

Native Problem in Our New Colonies, The E. Sidney Habtland • . . April 73 

Nigeria and its Trade Habold BiNOLOSS , . . .June 67 

Officers and Men on Active Service, Rela- 
tions between Ebskine Childebs .... May 54 

On the Line April 11, May 12, June 15 

Outlook for British Trade, The— IL . , Bib Henby E. Rosgoe . . . May 40 

Patriotic Funds, The Administration of . The Eabl Nelson .... April 61 

Policy of the Powers in China, The . . H. C. Thomson . . . . r June 41 

Protestantism of Christ, The • • . The Authob of " Pbo Chbisto et 

ECOLESIA " May 98 

Pyramid of Studies, The • • • • June 1 

BeoenUy discovered Greek Masterpieces • Pbof. C. Waldstein 

Reflections on the Art of Life • ' • R. db Maulde la Clayi^be . 
Relatians between Officers and Men on 

Active Service ..... Ebskine Childebs . 

Romance of a Song-Book, The . . . Henby Newbolt . . . 

Ruins of the Hauran, The .... Miss 0. L. Bell 

Spring : A Sonnet The Hon. Mbs. Wedgwood . 

Tolstoi, The Wrong • . . . • G. L. Caldebon . . . 
Trade and the Administration in British 

East Africa E. J. Mabdon .... 

Trade, Nigeria and its .... Habold Bindloss . 

„ , The Outiook for British— II. . • Sib Henby E. Rosgoe . 

Tristram of Blent ..... Anthony Hope April 166, May 163, June 165 

Volunteer Efficiency • • • • . Basil Williams .... June 68 
War Office, The Admiralty, and the Coaling 

Stations, The Sib J. C. R. Colomb, E.C.M.G., M.P. June 27 

Wrong Tolstoi, The G. L. Caldebon .... May 129 

Tonge, Charlotte, as a Chronicler . . Miss E. Siohel .... May 88 



April 147 




















APRIL 1901 


A Grkat Debatb • Page 1 

On thb Link 11 



















No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 a 

The Editor of the Monthly Rkview is alfvays happy to receive 
MSS. and to give them hit consideration. They should he type- 
written or easily legible, and accompanied by a stamped addressed 
envelope for their return in case of non-acceptance. It must be 
understood that neither the Editor nor the Publisher oj this 
Reuiew can be responsible for the loss oJ any MS. submitted to 
them, although every care will be taken of those sent. They 
should be addressed to the Editor, ^^ Monthly Revibw," 
50a Albemarle Street, London, W. 


ON the same day that a section of the House of Commons 
was engaged in a bear-fight with the police, a debate 
of the greatest national importance had been concluded in the 
House of Lords. The discussion was, in many respects, re- 
markable. For the most part no trace of party feeling could 
be discerned in the speeches. Such staunch Unionists as the 
Duke of Bedford and Lord Dunraven differed from the views 
expressed by Ministers not less decidedly than did Lord 
Rosebery. On the other hand, the acting leader of the 
Opposition and the Prime Minister were in substantial agree- 
ment. Even Ministers, though their conclusions were the same, 
did not think it necessary to pretend that the reasoning which 
brought them to these was in each case identical. No one 
spoke unless he had something to say, and as soon as he had 
said it each resumed his seat. With hardly an exception, no 
speaker strove for effect or indulged in rhetoric. On a subject 
of less interest the sobriety of the speeches might have made 
them dull. As it was, it served to heighten the impression of 
earnestness and reality. Seldom has there been a more useful 
or a more admirable debate, seldom has there been a clearer 
manifestation of the political instinct of Englishmen. It is 
not too much to say that the discussion was worthy of the 
Great Council of a great nation, and such as could have taken 
place in no other assembly in the world. 

From the nature of the case the debate was in the main 


concerned with general principles. There was no definite plan 
before the House, and except in the speeches of Lord Lansdowne 
and the Duke of Devonshire, and to some extent in that of 
Lord Wolseley, no effort was made to work out in detail the 
general ideas of the different speakers. All that was attempted 
was to arrive at the general principles which should govern the 
solution of the problem how to secure a military administration 
efficient for its purpose and at the same time consistent with 
the universal supremacy of Parliament The problem is a 
difficult one. It arises in some form or another in every State, 
for the army must always be the servant of the State. But 
the difficulty is most acute with us. For, where the form of 
government is essentially autocratic or oligarchic, those in 
authority have commonly had some military training, or, at 
the worst, are not wholly ignorant of the military require- 
ments of their country. Moreover, the Continental system 
of compulsory military service gives some military insight 
to every male citizen and makes him less impatient with 
the peculiarities of the soldier's mind than the English civilian 
is apt to be. 

It follows, fix)m the conditions of the problem, that it may 
be approached from two points of view. One man will think 
most of the improvement of military efficiency, while another 
will have most regard to the sovereignty of Parliament. In 
the House of Lords both these points of view foimd exponents. 
Soldiers like Lord Chelmsford and Lord Wolseley cared only 
for the necessities of the Army. To them the one thing 
desirable was that the Army should be governed by a soldier. 
And though Lord Wolseley in terms conceded that the 
ultimate control of military matters must be left with the 
Secretary of State, he conceived it possible to allow the 
Commander-in-Chief to appeal from the decisions of the 
Minister to an authority which he vaguely described as ** the 
public.*' This proposal was unanimously condemned, and 
indeed, upon the face of it, it is unworkable. Some speakers 
supposed that Lord Wolseley contemplated an appeal to the 


public press 1 Such a suggestion can only be described as 
farcical, and we do not think that was the meaning of the late' 
Commander-in-Chief To give an appeal, even to the House 
of Commons, would not be much better. It is enough to say 
that no representative Assembly is capable of administrative 
work, and the House of Commons is no better in this respect 
than its neighbours. None were more outspoken in their 
condemnation of Lord Wolseley's proposal than Lord Rosebery. 
He described it as a " great flaw in his speech." We do not 
differ. But it is only fair to Lord Wolseley to point out that 
his plan is nothing more than a somewhat elaborated version of 
the proposal made by Lord Rosebery last year. Lord Rosebery 
then suggested that the Commander-in-Chief should be invited 
to express publicly his opinion upon the mihtary situation. If 
that suggestion had been adopted, one of two things must 
have happened. Either the Commander-in-Chiefs opinion 
would have accorded with that of the Minister, and then 
nothing would have been gained; or it would have been 
different from that of his official superior, and then Parlia- 
ment would in effect have been asked to arbitrate between 
the two. 

To judge by the opening sentences of Lord Rosebery*s 
speech, he does not appear to have altogether abandoned this 
idea. But he now prefers a modification of it, by which the 
Appellate tribunal should be a Committee of Parliament 
This he advocates on the ground that it is impossible to 
continue " the hide-bound system of absolute secrecy and of 
personal responsibility to one individual.'' We confess that 
we like Lord Rosebery's new scheme as littie as we like that 
of last year. As far as secrecy is concerned, it probably is not 
of much importance as a general rule. But there is already 
complete publicity as to the broad lines of our Aiture military 
policy, and there is complete power for Parliament to inquire 
into the minutest detail of military administration in the past. 
This seems to us sufficient. That every detail of contemporary 
military administration should be the subject of public dis- 


cussion we do not think to be desirable. The other allegation 
of Lord Rosebery , that too much responsibility is thrown upon 
the Secretary of State, we hold to be altogether unsound. 
Decentralisation is an admirable thing, but since Lord Rosebery 
admits that the ultimate power of decision must be vested in 
the delegate of Parliament, we are opposed to diminishing his 
individual responsibility by allowing him to share it with a 
Committee. Such a plan would greatly complicate the ad- 
ministrative machine, and would, besides, make it absolutely 
impossible, in case disaster occurred, to say whether it was due 
to the Secretary of State or to the Committee of Parliament 
The only purpose which such a Committee could serve would 
be to compel the sanction of proposals by the Treasury or by 
Parliament not on their merits but by the sheer weight of the 
Committee's authority. Theoretically this might be of use in 
times of great national emergency, but in the present state of 
feeling we do not think that the hands of Ministers require 
strengthening. If the authorities of the War Office should be 
agreed that certain steps ought to be taken in the interests of 
the safety of the country, neither House of Parliament, and still 
less the Treasury, would resist their proposals or refuse the 
funds necessary to carry them out We do not, therefore, think 
that even on this ground there is any necessity to adopt Lord 
Rosebery 's plan, which for all other purposes would be a very 
disadvantageous one. 

The truth is, that the object of the soldiers, and it may be 
of Lord Rosebery also, is to water down the control of Parlia- 
ment by increasing the power of the Commander-in-Chief at 
the expense of that of the Secretary of State. Such an idea 
is impossible. The smallest part of the difficulty is that 
Parliamentary supremacy is the foundation of our Constitution. 
This we take to be the meaning of Moltke's celebrated phrase 
about our Government making it impossible for us ever to 
have an army. He saw that, since Parliament has absolute 
control over the money, and has thereby obtained the power 
of dismissing any Minister or Ministry, it follows that every 


Minister must be supreme over the department over which he 
presides. Ministers are the agents of Parliament to carry on 
the government of the country ; but, if their functions are to 
be discharged by other people, it is clear that the government 
of the country will no longer be carried on by the agents 
of Parliament, Even if this difficulty were overcome, and we 
were content to rearrange our Constitution for the purpose, we 
should not be nearly half way towards our end, for we should 
have as a further step to alter the national character. The 
fact is that, partly from historical and partly, perhaps, from 
racial causes, the English are essentially unmilitary. They 
resent the control of soldiers. They distrust military ideals. 
No Government that ever existed in this country was more 
unpopular than that of Cromwell and his Major-Generals. Its 
unpopularity left an indelible mark on English institutions. 
For many years it made it impossible to have a standing army. 
Even when the course of events made it necessary to concede 
that much to the military necessities of the time, it still 
remained a maxim for centuries with all politicians that as 
little power as possible must be granted to the soldiers, that 
their business was to fight our wars, and this bang done, that 
there was little or no place for them in the body politic. We 
do not think it necessary to defend this attitude of mind. Like 
most popular feelings, it is largely unjust, but also, like many 
popular feelings, it is based to some exigent on a true concep- 
tion. Politically, using the word in its largest sense, the 
domination of the military idea in a State is calamitous. It 
tends, we believe, to destroy individuality and adaptability, 
and is a serious menace to individual liberty. In saying this 
we are, of course, not imagining the possibility in England of 
any attempt at military despotism — ^for us the very word 
Emperor has lost its meaning — ^we are thinking of a social 
and political danger of a far more insidious kind. If, on the 
whole, we have the freest national life and government in the 
world, and if we have acquired enormous territorial possessions 
by the initiative and tenacity of our people, we believe that 


those results axe to some extent due to our freedom from the 
bondage of militarism. 

The general principle upon which we have insisted was 
conceded by almost all the speakers in the House of Lords, 
and since it was therefore admittedly impossible to make the 
military administration independent of civilian control, the only 
question that remained was how best to accommodate the two. 
This was reduced to the relatively narrow question whether 
there should be in the War Office one supreme military official 
without whose assent nothing should be done, who alone should 
have the right of making official proposals to the Secretary of 
State, or whether there should be several co-ordinate officials, 
each supreme in his own department and each directly sub- 
ordinate to the Secretary of State. It was round the two 
Orders in Council of 1888 and 1895 that the discussion 
principally turned. The earlier Order had settled that the 
Commander-in-Chief should be the sole military adviser of 
the Secretary of State. The Hartington Conamission had 
gone to the opposite extreme. It recommended the complete 
equality of several superior officials, going so far as to abolish 
the office of Conunander-in-Chief and substituting for it that 
of Chief of the Staffi By the Order of 1895 a compromise 
was carried out The office of Commander-in-Chief was 
retained, but four other military officials were put in direct 
relations with the Secretary of State. Over them the Com- 
mander-in-Chief had no control, though it was still his duty 
to supervise their work and, if he thought right, to make to the 
Secretary of State any recommendations thereon that seemed 
good to him. We agree with Lord Salisbury that the differ- 
ence between the Order of 1888 and the present arrangement 
does not seem to the civilian mind to be a large one. It is 
said that under the Order of 1888 it was easier to bring home 
to some individual responsibility for any failure that occurred. 
The theory appears to be that, since the Conunander-in-Chief 
had to advise the Secretary of State on all military matters, he 
was the official responsible if anything went wrong in any 


military department A responsibility so extended as that is 
very little worth having. It does not materially differ from 
the constitutional responsibility of a Minister over all the 
details in the administration of his office. In point of fact, it is 
useless to expect from human nature a knowledge and an 
energy which would enable any one man to deal with so vast 
a quantity of detail, and since every one in his heart recognises 
that this is true, the theoretical responsibility ceases to have any 
actual signification, because no one would wish to see it fully 
enforced. Under the existing system it is, no doubt, difficult 
to say that a failure in military operations, for instance, arose 
exclusively from the defect of one department in the War 
Office. Still in some, cases this can be done, and then the 
responsibility of the individual who has charge of tiiat depart- 
ment ought to be a real one. Experience shows that even in 
such cases the value of personal responsibility may be easily 
exaggerated. After a failure has occurred, and the first burst 
of indignation has passed by, Englishmen feel that to punish 
an official who has done his best, however indifferent that best 
may have been, verges on the ungenerous. This we take to 
be the explanation of the indignant protests aroused by what 
is called Lord Lansdowne's attack upon Lord Wolseley. Men 
felt that Lord Wolseley was a soldier with a great reputation, 
who had served his country well, and if towards the end of his 
career he had not shown to the fiill the energy and foresight 
which he once possessed it was ungenerous to tax him with 
the disasters of which this was only one of many causes. The 
sentiment may not be strictly logical, but expediency, not logic, 
is here the test, and from the practical point of view this 
feeling exposes us to little danger. The only object of punish- 
ment is to encourage the others, and in such emplo3rments as 
that of Commander-in-Chief a man must be singularly — ^we 
had almost said inconceivably — unfitted for his post if the fear 
of disapprobation at some uncertain future time is the only 
thing that makes him do his duty. Such possibilities as the 
negligence of officers in the field, or their disobedience to orders. 


or disloyal failure to support each other, belong to a different 
category, and should, we agree, be guarded against by simple 
deterrents unflinchingly administered. 

The only other advantage said to be possessed by the 
system established in 1888 is that under it the position of the 
Commander-in-Chief was of greater importance than it is 
under the Order of 1895. The meaning of those who take this 
view seems to be that, if the office of Commander-m-Chief is 
rendered of great dignity and importance, he will be more 
likely to defeat the civilian Secretary of State in the perpetual 
conflict which they conceive to be the normal result of the 
working of the War Office. They also suppose that by 
entrustmg the Commander-in-Chief with the nominal control 
— for it can be nothing more — of all branches of the military 
service he will be enabled to direct the Army completely 
according to his wishes. We differ on both points. Though, 
as we have explained, we believe it to be essential that the 
ultimate decision of military matters should be left to the 
Minister, we do not mean that he should decide them contrary 
to the advice of his military experts. The administration of 
the Army can only be carried on effectively if the relations 
between its military chiefs are such that they are normally 
in perfect agreement, and, if that is so, from that point of 
view the dignity and importance of the chief military 
adviser are not of essential moment. As to the other sug- 
gestion, nominal control is of no use. To overwhelm a 
man with duties is to destroy not only his responsibility but 
also his power. 

For these reasons we do not regret that the Government 
has provisionally determined to adhere to the arrangement of 
1895. Lord Roberts and Mr. Brodrick believe that they can 
carry out the great changes that have been announced with the 
present machinery, and we feel confident that, if they cannot 
be carried out under the Order of 1895, they will be equally 
impossible under the Order of 1888. The truth is, that in the 
Army as in the law, and as in many other institutions of Govern- 


ment, it is not the machinery that matters so much as the 
men.^ Unless you have good Judges, no code of law and 
procedure, however admirable, will work satisfactorily; and 
unless you bave a competent Secretary of State and Com- 
mander-in-Chief, it matters very little what ftmctions you 
assign to them. Certain improvements are to be made, but 
all that can be hoped from improvements in administrative 
arrangements is that the men employed may be more 
able to make good use of their energies. No polishing or 
lubrication will enable machinery to develop greater energy 
than is imparted to it by its motive power. Where that 
motive power is a human being, he may exceptionally be so 
gifted as to enable him to carry out his will whatever the 
defects of the means at his disposal. With ordinary men there 
is, doubtless, a danger that their efforts will be exhausted in 
making the machine move before they have done anything 
with it. The great objects, therefore, should be simplicity and 
division of labour, sununed up in the present controversies by 
the word " decentralisation." If that can be secured, we do not 
think that the War Office will prove to be a worse administra- 
tive machine, whether under the Order of 1888 or under the 
Order of 1895, than the other departments of Government 
This was the obvious meaning of the concluding words of 
Lord Salisbury's speech, and it is only ignorance or prejudice 

^ Lord Wolseley himself unintentionally supplied a strong corroboration of 
this argument. Towards the conclusion of his first speech he said : ^* It may 
be reasonably argued that ' if our present army system is so bad, so unlike that 
of the great military nations, how were we able under it to despatch the large 
army to South Africa we so lately sent there in such a satisfactory manner ' ? 
The answer, my Lords, is a simple one. No army system, however bad it may be, 
would be allowed to stand in the way at such a time by officers like those of 

whom the Headquarter Staff of the Army consisted in 1899 All worked 

hard day and night, and all were determined that the Army required in South 
Africa should be despatched from England without a hitch^ system or no 
system. But in so doing they were not helped by the new army system. If 
ever the history of what then was done is fully written, the country will 
realise how much it owes to those officers and how Httle to the .... system 
under which they were supposed to work." 


that can see apathy or cjmicism in such an opinion. If it were 
possible to construct an administrative machine which would 
work equally well whether its chiefs were able or incompetent, 
differences in the details of its arrangement would be of vital 
importance. But so long as society and its institutions depend 
on the characteristics of human nature, we believe with Lord 
Salisbury that national success depends mainly on the character 
and ability of the men who serve the State, though it is right 
that care should be taken to prevent their work from being 
hindered by unnecessary administrative complications. 


THE charm of the pages that follow it is well suggested 
in the title chosen by Mr. C. D. Roberts for his latest 
book, The Heart of the Ancient Wood. (Gay and Bird. 
6*.) — Forest Dukes — Forest Lovers — Children of the Forest — 
forests, to the limited number of those who love them, are 
fascinating as islands are to the majority of readers. Bitter 
tongues drive Kirstie, a deserted wife, from her native village 
to a clearing where she lives alone with her little Miranda. 
Mowgli, of " The Jungle Book," was clearly the boy Miranda 
should have married; they have the same brotherhood with 
beast and bird, the same elfin quality of still demiu^ wildness 
that Sir Joshua depicted in Puck and Robinetta. Mowgli 
being of a different continent, however, she is wooed and won 
by a mighty hunter, who tracks her down relentiessly as he 
would a fine deer. The dramatic moment of conflict between 
Miranda's love of old Kroof, the bear, and her new love of 
Dave, the hunter, ends this beautifid idyl just where it should 
be ended. The author — ^like the author of " Walden *' — must 
surely number a tree among his ancestors. 

It is a far cry from these sylvan solitudes to the litde life 
of the old-maidenly household described by Mary Findlater in 
A Narrow Way. (Methuen. 6^.) — An old maid is an excellent 
foil to a young maid (especially in the city of Edinburgh)^ and 
the young maid of Momingsfield Terrace, whether submissive 


or in gentle rebellion, delights the reader at every turn. The 
story is — ^that there is no story. Catherine is not even allowed 
to go to a Shakespeare Reading with a widower. She is not 
allowed this, she is not allowed that ; she has to wear a water- 
proof; she is not supposed to walk alone; yet she is never 
even discontented for more than five minutes at a time, nor 
does it occur to her to think of that " Duty to Herself" which 
some young ladies find more attractive than the other two 
prescribed in the Catechism. She is a welcome change from 
the usual heroine just because she is quite imheroic. Her head 
is strong as her heart. Common sense governs even her 
charity — ^the last thing that it governs as a rule ; yet she is 
never cold. She weds her widower at last after many diffi- 
culties, none of them of her own contriving ; and she becomes 
the mother of " a very nice, ordinary baby." The characters 
are drawn with quiet, subtle humoiu*. They never surprise, 
except as living men and women surprise us when we cry, 
« Oh, how like them 1 " 

M. Bergeret ^ Paris. Par Anatole France. (Paris. 
Calmann L^vy. 8/r. 50c.) — M. Anatole France is certainly 
the ''Chef" of literatiue. No one else can dish up contempt 
with such delicious sauces, or invent such subtle flavours, or 
make cynicism so tempting to the palate. He mingles the 
unction of Renan with the satire of La Rochefoucauld — ^with 
that great aphorist's gift for profound epigram. But the 
qualities which go to make up Anatole France are too delicate 
to be touched by any words — unless they could be his own. 
If at one moment he is a cynic, at another he becomes idyllic, 
almost Virgilian: in his descriptions of a landscape, for 
instance, of the shape of a tree, or the bookstalls on the 

M. Bergeret in Paris is as fascinating as M. Bergeret in his 
provincial University town. Everywhere he is the same suave, 
terrifying critic of life and manners — ^the philosopher whose 
indulgence kills by its severity. But we feel happier about 


him in this volume than in the previous ones. He is living 
peacefiilly with his dog, his daughter, and his sister Zoe — 
" esprit positifV who, compared to himself, is a man of action. 
One of the most charming passages in the book is that in 
which M. Bergeret and she, in their search for a house, revisit 
the home of their childhood, and recall their parents' visitors 
and the look of the drawing-room clock, whence " Spartacus, 
les bras crois^s, jetait un regard indign^." But the fine flower 
of his irony comes out best in the company of men, and when 
he is facing a crowd, a political party, or any other exhibition 
of collective banality. On these occasions his wit and his 
diagnosis of mediocrity cause positive dismay. The portraits 
of M. Bergeret's acquaintance are exquisite, sardonic, inimitable 
in their discretion. So is the description of the crowd waiting 
at the railway station to see the President depart on a short 
journey — and of all the bourgeois in flys, with parcels in their 
hands, who '* manquaient leurs trains avec d^f^rence.'" 

Many of M. France's pages are filled by his comments on 
current matters ; on TAfiaire, on the character of M. M^line 
and other Ministers, on the royalists and the socialists. His pen 
unerringly probes every foible, and there is no more brilliant 
piece of sarcasm than the quotations he reads out fi*om his 
newly discovered sixteenth-century satire, " Les Trublions," a 
masterpiece of Rabelaisian style. But if any one inquires who 
the Trublions were, we can only reply like M. Bergeret to 
M. Goubin : ** Qu'il le saurait par la suite, et qu'il ^tait bon de 
lire un texte avant de le commenter." 

Shifting Scenes. BySurEdwardMalet, 6.C.B. (Murray. 
10*. Qd. net.) — We confess to having b^^ this book with mis- 
givings: the recollections of so distinguished an Ambassadorcould 
not fail to be interesting ; but we doubted whether they would be 
best printed in the form of an interview with Mr. Whifiles, the 
supernatural little gentleman who sits on a man's feet in the 
small hours and describes himself as *' The Reporter." We had 
not gone far, however, before we acknowledged the hand of 


the artist, to whom alone it belongs to choose the form in 
which he will work. Mr, Whiffles has a real purpose, and 
completely fulfils it; not least during the very interesting 
narratives towards the end of the book, when he almost drops 
out for a time. The volume is short and light, but there is a 
good deal to be read between the lines. Among many good 
stories and some discreet revelations — ^which we shall refrain 
from quoting — ^there is throughout a strong woof of geniality, 
good sense and straightforward piety. The reader will agree 
with M. Desbarolles, the palmist, who, when told that his 
visitor was in the diplomatic service, replied, "Eh bien. 
Monsieur, je ne puis que f^liciter votre gouvemement" 

Studies in Peerage and Family History. By J. Horace 
Round. (Constable. 12*. 6rf. net.) — We are justly proud of 
our ancient and honourable peerage. Unfortunately there have 
been members of it who in striving to appear more ancient 
have succeeded in becoming less honoiu'able. We can fc ^.ve 
them — even their own descendants may almost forgive them — 
for their fraud or credulity, since they have unwittingly pro- 
cured for us the pleasure of reading Mr. Round's book. It is a 
collection of speeches for the prosecution, and no cause cdebre 
or detective story could be more absorbing. Perhaps the best 
single instance is the case headed, ** Our English Hapsburgs : a 
Great Delusion," in which Mr. Round, like another Sherlock 
Holmes, exposes stage by stage the well-known pretensions of 
the Earls of Denbigh ; showing not only that their claim is not 
true and could not be true ; not only that it is a late invention 
and supported by forgeries ; but even when and how, and for 
whom, and perhaps by whom the forgeries were prepared. 
But to the antiquary who loves truth the whole book is a 
skittle-alley of delight, in which Heralds and their rules, " X." 
and Mr. Fox-Davies, sham Normans and bogus Stewarts, are 
bowled over with a perpetual rattle. At this rate we may live 
to see genealogy restored to its place as a branch of social and 
historical science. 


Canada under British Rule. By Sir John Bourinot, 
K.C.M.G. (Cambridge University Press. 6*.) — In reading this 
plain and sober handbook we are struck with the tone of quiet 
assiu'ance which seems to mark the Canadian point of view. 
The restless anxiety to be noticed and appreciated at the full 
value, so characteristic of Nationahst feeling in France, 
America and modem Germany, is here conspicuously absent. 
Canada has arrived : she has behind her a past already long and 
proud, and before her a future in all probabihty more brilliant 
than that of any other member of the Empire. She does not 
need to advertise either the romance of her three hundred years* 
story or the unique interest of her political development. But 
they are worthy of close study by all ImperiaUsts, especially at 
the present moment. 

Sir John Bourinot's chapters on ** Confederation " and on 
"The Evolution of Confederation" are particularly in point 
while we are following the Duke of York's AustraUan voyage, 
ano^i6oking forward — some dismally, some with good hope — 
to the settlement of South Africa. Canada, too, has had to 
meet the difficulties caused by an incomplete fusion of races, 
and in this as in other respects we have her example to 
cheer us. 

Although there is a large and increasing French Canadian element in the 
Dominion^ its history so £kr need not create fear as to the foture^ except perhaps 
in the minds of gloomy pessimists. While this element naturally clings to its 
national language and institutions^ yet^ under the influence of a complete system 
of local self-government, it has always taken as active and earnest a part as the 
English element in establishing and strengthening the confederation. It has 
steadily grown in strength and prosperity under the generous and inspiring 
influence of British institutions, which have given full scope to the best attri- 
butes of a nationality crushed by the depressing conditions of French rule for 
a century and a half. 

It is one of those Canadians of French descent — Sir Wilfirid 
Laurier — who has just said of the Boers, " I pledge my repu- 
tation and my name as a British subject that, if they have lost 
their independence, they have not lost their freedom. There is 

No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 B 


but one future for South Africa, and that is a grand con- 
federation on the pattern of the Canadian Confederation." 

China : Her History^ Diplomacy and Commerce. By 

E. H. Parker. (Murray. 8*. net.) — Mr. Parker's right to be 
heard is undeniable: he has been British Consul at Kiung- 
chow and Adviser on China Affairs to the Burma Government ; 
he has passed twenty-five years at a dozen Chinese ports, and 
travelled seven thousand miles in half a dozen provinces ; 
he has resided in Corea, and visited Indo-China and Japan 
frequently. His book bears ample witness to this intimate 
knowledge of the country, but it possesses the still rarer merit of 
originality. It is in every way first-hand. Even in that con- 
siderable part dealing with the history of China and her past 
relations with Europeans, which is necessarily compiled from 
Chinese documents, Mr. Parker has examined the original 
records for himself. Such thoroughness can hardly be over- 
praised. It results in a book which is unlike any other English 
work on the subject, and will probably be a standard book of 
reference for a lorig time to come. The following passages 
indicate the trend of the author s opinions on the two points of 
strongest current interest. Of our trade, he says on p. 8 : 

It is thus evident, from a commercial point of view^ that the interests of 
Great Britain lie almost entirely upon the coasts^ upon the embouchures of 
three or four great rivers, upon the valleys of these rivers and their tributaries, 
and upon the head waters of the Yang-Tsze. If this region be kept open to 
us, we can relegate to a second place Manchuria, Tibet and Yiin-Nan. 

Of the Chinese social system he tells us in the chapter on 
** Government " : 

The Peking Government makes no new laws, does nothing of any kind for 
any class of persons ; absorbs successful men, and gives out needy or able men 
to go forth and do likewise. Hence eveiy man, be he squeezer, middleman or 
squeezed, has, or hopes to have, a finger in the pie. Thus there is a sort of 
live-and-let-live feeling all round. There are no passports, no restraints on 
liberty, no frontiers, no caste prejudices, no food scruples, no sanitary measures, 
no laws except popular customs and criminal statutes. China is in many 
senses one vast republic, in which personal restraints have no existence. There 



is no jealousy or class feeling in the country : it is simply a question of big 
fish feeding on little fish^ unless and until the little fish can keep out of the 
way, eat their way up, and become big fish themselves. 

With this should be read the two most interesting chapters on 
" Personal Characteristics " and on " Religion and Rebellion." 

Japanese Plays and Playfellows. By Osman Edwards. 
(Heinemann. 10^. net.) — Good print and twelve coloured 
plates by Japanese artists make this a book of attractive appear- 
ance ; but its merits are far from ending there. In its pages 
we meet again Mr. Kawakami and the charming Madame 
Sada Yacco, whose acting so delighted us last year, and we 
learn much that is new and suggestive about the drama and 
consequently about national character and development. Mr. 
Edwards disclaims the intention of confining hunself, as too 
many writers have done, to the feminine side of Japanese life, 
but this does, in fact, provide more than half his material, 
and the opportunity for his most conspicuous success. The 
four chapters called " Playing with Fire " are thus described by 
the author : 

This is the love-story of Ren6 Beauregard and O Maru San. It does not 
illustrate the C3'nical conceit of a French dandy^ aesthetically explaining and 
profaning love to amuse an indelicate public^ nor does it demonstrate the folly 
of mixed marriages^ , . . hypocritically served up to suit the British palate. It 
is the straightforward story of an ordinary attachment in the Far East. 

To this we must add that its straightforwardness is balanced 
by its refinement. "The Scarlet Lady" is another section 
which shows Mr. Edwards to have mastered the art of telling 
broad truth innocently. He has also a gift for rendering the 
charm of Japanese poetry. 

The Shadowy Waters. By W. B. Yeats. (Hodder 
and Stoughton. 8^. 6d. net) — Mr. Yeats's poem has been out 
some months, but for reading poetry or recommending it no 
one time is more suitable than another. And this is especially 
true of poetry so remotely beautiful as that contained in the 


volume now before us. It is a tale, or rather a dream, of no 
possible age or country ; a thing apart from all life except the 
life of the soul or the imagination ; and yet we can believe that 
it might be so put upon the stage as to move deeply an audience 
that cared for poetry. This is no place to estimate or to praise 
a poet of Mr. Yeats's rank ; we can only say to those who fed, 
as we do, that he is destined to be a great figure in a great age 
of poetry, " Here is a new volmne by the man you know," and 
to save those who do not and cannot care for such things we 
may add the following lines, taken fi*om the introductory 

I had not eyes like those enchanted eyes, 
Yet dreamed that beings happier than men 
Moved round me in the shadows^ and at night 
My dreams were cloven by voices and by fires ; 
And the images I have woven in this story 
Of Forgael and Dectora and the empty waters. 
Moved round me in the voices and the fires ; . . • . 

How shall I name you, immortal mild proud shadows ? 

I only know that all we know comes from you. 

And that you come from Eden on flying feet. 

Is Eden far away, or do you hide 

From human thought, as hares and mice and coneys 

That run before the reaping-hook and lie 

In the last ridge of the barley ? Do our woods 

And winds and ponds cover more quiet woods, 

More shining winds, more star-glimmering ponds ? 

Milton. By Walter Raleigh. (Edward Arnold. 6*.) — 
Professor Raleigh has done his countrymen a service: he has 
given them a much-needed book, of exactly the right kind and 
size. It goes without saying that the writing is never dull : in 
our judgment the history is also fair and the criticism sound. 
We commend to some of our newspaper critics two passages 
which have a bearing on the work of some poets more recent 
than Milton, and, alas ! probably better known. 

In a long poem variety is indispensable, and he preserved the utmost 
freedom in some respects. He continually varies the stresses in the line, their 


number^ their weighty and their incidence^ letting them fall^ when it pleases 
his ear^ on the odd as well as on the even syllables of the line. He never 
forgets the pattern^ yet he never stoops to teach it by the repetition of a 
monotonous tattoo. 

Eclecticism and the severe castigation of style are dangerous disciplines 
for any but a rich temperament; from others they produce only what is 
exquisite and thin and vapid. The '^ stylist " of the modem world is generally 

an interesting invalid Sunbeams cannot be extracted from cucumbers^ nor 

can the great manner in literature emanate from a chill self-culture The 

grandeur of ''Paradise Lost" or ''Samson Agonistes" could never^ by any 
conceivable device of chemistry or magic^ be compounded from delicate sensi- 
bilities and a superfine ear for music. For the material of those palaces whole 
provinces were pillaged^ and the waste might furnish forth a city. 

Truths New and Old. By the Ven. James M. Wilson. 
(Constable 6*.) — The reasons given by the author for the 
publication of these sermons are interesting. They are twofold : 
first, a belief 

tha t the old doctrines can be expressed in ways not out of harmony with 
new modes of thought^ and that all new knowledge can be absorbed into the 
Christian fiuth without destroying its continuity. 

And, secondly, a sense of historical obligation : 

I am vicar of a church in whose porch I have placed a board with the 
names and dates of all the vicars for 700 years. How greatly we should value 
a volume of ordinary parochial sermons preached by my predecessors of 100, 
200, 300 years ago in that pulpit ! How interesting it would be to trace the 
continuity of substance and the change of form ! 

That is a fine idea, and one which is corroborated by the 
universal interest lately shown in the daily reprints of the 
Times from the news of a hundred years ago. Of Archdeacon 
Wilson's own views we may be sure that, whatever they may 
be in a century's time, they are far enough from being out of 
date to-day. In him the best spirit of the Broad Church lives 
and thrives. 

It is common teaching to say tliat the Church is the Kingdom of God . 
and*, of course, there is a sense in which it is true : but by that some people 
mean that our Church system — perhaps even that of the Church of England 


alone — ^represents the organisation of the Kingdom of God^ its ministers 
holding the highest rank as the delegates of Divine power. The Kingdom of 
God is the sum total of the hearts and lives in which the Spirit of Christ .... 
is living and working ; and only so far as the Giorch is filled with Christ's 
Spirit^ and understood to include all who are so filled^ so far is it the Kingdom 
of God. 

Of the manner in which the problems of the modem Church 
are dealt with we cannot here say more than that it is singularly 
direct and simple for work founded both on scholarship and 
great scientific attainment. 



THE Civil Service of any country is the object of a great 
deal of abuse. It is here made the ordinary scapegoat for 
all real or supposed failures or defects in our vast adminis- 
tration. The critic who generally derives his knowledge of it, 
solely from his own inner consciousness, can find no more 
bitter term of reproach than the word " official " which is used 
to denote an almost incredible degree of perverse blundering 
obstruction, or else crass ignorance and negligence. 

But we are not always consistent in this matter. According 
to the humour of the speaker, information is called '' official " 
as a guarantee of unimpeachable accuracy, or it may be used in 
order to hold up to scorn and contempt information supposed 
to be trickily calculated to deceive and mislead. 

So far as my observation goes, those who desire to reform 
our Civil Service compare the results of our actual administra- 
tion with those of some ideal one, whose characteristics are 
only vaguely indicated. 

They do not point to any other government administration 
which is more successful than ours under conditions anjrthing 
like those we have to deal with, or which they would substitute 
for ours. 

My belief, is, that our permanent Civil Service at the 
present time will compare fevourably with any that has ever 
existed in our own or any other country. In integrity, it is 


quite unimpeachable, and in intelligence, quite up to the aver- 
age, if not above it Every human organisation whatever must 
of course have the defects of its qualities, and the practical 
point to be considered by those who propose alterations, is 
whether the defects overbalance the q^ualities, in which case a 
revolutionary reform would be necessary, or whether the 
inevitable defects must be accepted in consideration of the 
good qualities, in which case we have only to look for and 
remedy minor defects, leaving the organisation substantially 
as it is. 

To those who desire to consider this subject fairly it is, I 
think, of consequence that particular attention should be fixed 
on one peculiar and fundamental feature of our organisation, 
which is perfectly familiar to everybody, though nobody seems 
to notice its marked effect on most of the matters in which 
complaints have been made now and at other times. 

The personnel of the Civil Service is divided into two 
distinct parts, the first of which, though it comprises a com- 
paratively small number of persons, is the most important by 
reason of its occupying all the highest and ruling posts and 
making the appointments to all the posts under them. 

It consists of those ofiicials who occupy their positions by 
reason of being members of Parliament belonging to the 
party in political power. 

Of these, the tenure of oflice is quite uncertain ; it very 
seldom lasts more than a few years, sometimes only a few 
months. It depends in no degree on their success in admin- 
istering the departments they govern. 

The other portion of the Civil Service is by far the most 
numerous. Holding their ofiices technically, at the pleasure of 
their political chiefs, they are liable to removal or to some 
smaller punishment for misbehavioiu* or incompetence, but 
subject to this contingency, their tenure is practically per- 
manent and continuous with a right to pension on retirement 
from ill-health or on attaining the age of sixty. 

The higher offices in the permanent Civil Service such as 


under-secretaryships and offices of that grade, are filled by the 
personal selection of the political chiefs above referred to. 

Patronage, which was tUl thirty years ago the channel of 
admission to the service, has, as regards all ofiices below these, 
given way almost entirely to the competition system, which 
provides by examination for a certain standard of intellectual 
^ciency, but fails to provide against certain other defects 
which may mar a man's usefulness. Entering the service 
generally in the lower grade of the various divisions, and 
remaining, with exceptions, always in the same department, 
they may under such conditions as may be imposed, rise 
through all the grades open to them, or to obtain any special 
appointments which are filled by selecting from among them. 

By reason of the permanence of this branch of the service 
they must acquire considerable knowledge and experience in 
the work of the department they serve in — experience which is 
not only useful but essential to the parliamentary official above 
them, whose ntind may be a perfect blank on the business he 
is to be head of. It further ensures continuity of action and 
guards against previous decisions being ignored or lightly set 
aside fi'om ignorance of the reasons for which they were arrived 
at. In thinking of the great body of the civil servants, it is too 
conmion to consider only the clerical elements and to leave out 
of sight the large number whose duties are more practical and 

The political section of the Civil Service are selected by 
the party leader who is called on to form a government from 
among his particular supporters, and apparently for various 
reasons such as facility or power of speaking, debating power, 
connection with important personages or members of the 
party in power, the necessity for conciliating one who has a 
following or a standing in the country, and so on. I have 
never heard of administrative capacity being considered a 
special recommendation, and certainly, for the most part, they 
are appointed to the highest offices without administrative 
expaience of any sort, and, in fact, I am under the impression 


that to have any special knowledge of their duties is sometimes 
held to be a disadvantage. There has never been, for instance, 
any one appointed to be Secretary of War who could be sup- 
posed to have any knowledge of military administration, and 
when the propriety of appointing a naval man to be First Lord 
of the Admiralty is discussed the (alleged) failure of Lord St. 
Vincent in that position is always brought up to prove that 
practical naval experience is an absolute disqualification. 
When the office of Surveyor-General of the Ordnance was 
revived about thirty years ago the first holders of the office 
were men of military experience, for which object in fact the 
office, I believe, was created, and in order to secure that advan- 
tage it was arranged that the holder of that office need not be 
a Member of Parliament But it was soon found convenient 
to use the office to provide for some political claimant, and 
now for many years past it has been held by men with no 
military knowledge whatever. 

Since 1852 — ^that is for forty-eight years — ^there have been 
twenty-one changes of the head of the War Office, and in only 
four cases did the same person hold the office twice — i.e., seven- 
teen were quite new to the business. The Home Office has 
seen nineteen changes in which two persons held the office 
three times, and one twice — Le., fourteen were quite new to 
the work. The Colonial Office has seen twenty-five changes, 
among whom three held the office twice — i.e., twenty-two 
were quite new to the work. Nor is it at all common for a 
parliamentary Under-Secretary to become a Secretary of State. 
All of which shows that administrative knowledge and experi- 
ence either general or particular are considered of no import- 
ance as a recommendation for the highest administrative 

Some weeks ago Lord Rosebery, on one of those occasions 
on which he appears in public and gives a direction to public 
opinion, remarked that we had to reform our administration 
" on business principles " or something of the kind. " Business 
principles " are of all sorts — ^they include even those by which 


Jeremy Diddler carries on very large operations, and we must 
be careful how we carry these into the public service. 

It is a very common figure of speech, when some official 
proceeding is criticised, to say that any private business so con- 
ducted would soon find itself in the Bankruptcy Court, and it 
certainly cannot be denied that this may be said of the whole 
principle on which the Government administration is carried 
on as above described. If we might take the Bank of England 
to represent the Treasury, Cunard's Conipany and the P. and O. 
to correspond to the Admiralty and three or four great railway 
companies to represent the Army, and it was the practice that 
each of these instead of being controlled by directors practically 
permanent, all having a strong personal interest in their com- 
panies and acquainted with their duties, were controlled by 
men who knew nothing whatever about them, who held their 
offices by an uncertain tenure, perhaps for a few months, at 
most for a few years ; that having all being appointed because 
they agreed, say, on the subject of cheap beer for the working 
classes, they were all simultaneously liable to be turned out at 
any moment for no reason whatever connected with their work, 
but because of the views they or some of them held on the 
subject, say, of discipline in the Church of England, we should 
have a fair parallel to the administrative system which our 
constitution in its present phase imposes on us. In such a 
case it surely might be assumed that bankruptcy would be 
the result 

If this system had been brought to notice as an abstract 
proposal for governing a great country, it might perhaps have 
been thought to be B,jeu d* esprit in the style of Dean Swift, or 
such as forms the groundwork of Mr. Gilbert's plays ; but as it 
has grown up and we have not come as yet to any special grief 
under it, it has no doubt its merits and must contain within 
itself, or has developed, some compensating action that prevents 
the consequences which apparently ought to follow from its 
unreasonableness. I believe that compensating action to be 
the general efficiency of the permanent Civil Service and its 


unswerving loyalty to its changing parliamentary chiefs, in 
accordance with which its members give the latter in succes- 
sion the best advice their experience can suggest, and inform 
them of previous decisions so that continuity of policy may 
not be needlessly interrupted ; they also loyally carry out the 
decisions of their political chiefs even if contrary to the 
advice they have given, and do their best to make the course 
prescribed successful. 

It happened to me some years ago to hear two leading 
members of the political and permanent divisions of the 
public service give quite independently but within a short 
interval their views of the relative values of the two 
branches. Sir WiUiam Harcourt's remark was to the effect 
that if the Grovemment of the country were left solely in 
the hands of the permanent Civil Service there would be a 
revolution in six months. Lord Lingen's was that if it were 
not for the permanent Civil Service the administration of 
the country could not be carried on for six months. Of 
course these opinions were expressed in a merely conversa- 
tional way, and clothed in the figure of speech called 
h3rperbole; yet no doubt there was some meaning and an 
element of truth in both of them, and it was simply that 
though the English people like their business to be done well, 
they also like it to be done in accordance with their own ideas, 
and perhaps more importance is attached to the latter than 
the former. 

They like, in fact, to feel that they govern themselves, and 
having their chosen representatives at the head of affairs gives 
them this feeling. It devolves, of course, specially on the parlia- 
mentary official to bring before Parliament for legislation any 
measures which are called for by the country, or which he may 
think for the public advantage in connection with his depart- 
ment, and in framing these he must make use not only of the 
information and experience of the permanent staff, but of any 
other help and advice that he may find useful. But as regards 
ordinary current administration, as he is not equipped with 


any knowledge of the business he presides over, he must until 
he has served long enough to acquire some knowledge inevit- 
ably fall under the influence of those who have it already ; and 
in this a good deal depends on the hands he happens at first to 
fall into. The person he chances to rely on to put him " up to 
the ropes," to tell him how the office is worked, to help him as 
to precedents, to inform his mind as to the qualfications or 
official characters of the various members of the stafF, must 
have no doubt very great influence on his career as an 

I remember hearing years ago of an incident which aptly 
illustrates the power that must reside in the person who 
knows his business when brought into contact with those who 
do not About thirty years ago the Government determined 
to settle the old struggle which used at times to be very hot 
between the War Office and the Horse Guards. It was 
determined that the supremacy of the political chiefs should be 
asserted. With this end in view the Horse Guards staff* was 
removed fit>m the separate buildings fi-om which it derived its 
name, and located in the same building as the Secretary 
for War. 

Periodical meetings of the Secretary of State, the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, and other high officials were arranged. At 
the first of these it was thought necessary to take precautions 
against the Conmoander-in-Chief seeming to assert or claim 
any special position or authority, and it was settled that the 
Secretary of State should sit at one end of the table as chair- 
man, and that the parliamentary Under Secretary should place 
himself at the other end, so as to exclude the Commander-in- 
Chief from that position. This arrangement was duly carried 
out, but my informant, who was a member of the Govern- 
ment, told me that, notwithstanding all their pains, they could 
not prevent the Commander-in-Chief taking a very leading 
part simply because he knew all about the subject, and they 
knew hardly anything. 

As regards current administration, the special ftmction of 


the parliamentary ofBcial is to watch and understand public 
opinion, to form his own opinion on new suggestions, whether 
they emanate from inside or outside the department, and to 
give his instructions accordingly, and generally to take care 
that the business of the department is carried out ef&ciently 
so far as he can judge, and in harmony with public opinion. 
As part of this a certain function of the pohtical heads of 
department has been very much developed of late years. It 
is common in these days for members of Parliament to 
endeavour to control or influence the action of the administra- 
tion in all sorts of details, small and great At the same time 
that fault is found with the excessive centraUsation of adminis- 
tration, such centralisation is almost forced on the minister 
by his being called on to answer, and at short notice, for any 
act of a subordinate, high or low, far or near, to interfere 
personally in every detail, and to answer personally for every 
act of administration, however technical. 

Though often carried to excess this practice is not without 
its advantages. All sorts of matters come before the minister ; 
they are, I can vouch for it, always carefully inquired into, and 
thus abuses are checked or brought to Ught and stagnation 
prevented, because the practices and traditions of the depart- 
ment are every now and then brought up for judgment, and 
their soundness and applicability to existing circumstances have 
to be established to the satisfaction of an unbiased mind, or 
else changed. But the practice of detail interference by 
members of Parliament may easily be carried to excess, and be 
productive of weakness and inefficiency. No ordinary business 
suffers such interference. How would a public company get 
on if the shareholders were in session for six months or more 
and any one of them could harass the directors by questioning 
the action in detail of the manager or the head of any of the 
branches, and how much would the clerical staff have to be 
increased in order to be prepared for these questions ? 

For the proper working of this fundamentally Ulogical 
system, in which one body has all the power but no know- 


ledge, and the other has all the knowledge and no power, it is 
quite clear that a certain balance must be preserved. Public 
opinion is very uncertain in the objects it devotes its attention 
to, and by the nature of things is not always well directed. In 
such a case the parliamentary chief may have to choose 
whether he will conciliate public opinion at the expense of real 
efficiency, or take the consequence of withstanding it, and he 
is under great temptation to adopt the former course, especially 
if the Government or minister is weak and cannot afford to 
alienate any fraction of support As a variation on the old 
saw we used to hear — " Efficiency combined with economy " : 
the object to be aimed at may be described as ''Efficiency 
subject to expediency." 

It is somewhat remarkable that whereas the Grovernment has 
been constituted expressly in such a way that the chosen of the 
people have all the supreme power, directly anything goes wrong 
or anybody thinks it goes wrong, it is set down to the ineffi- 
ciency or perverseness of the permanent officials who are their 
subordinates. The strange doctrine is set forth and apparently 
believed that so soon as the minister gets seated in his office 
chair he becomes hypnotised by the permanent officials, that the 
trusted representative of the people becomes a helpless tool and 
a blind behind whom a number of obstructive, perverse, wrong- 
headed officials prevent an enlightened public from managing 
their own affairs as they should do. It is true that at election 
times, when the object is especially to discredit the poli- 
ticians, the blame of every supposed administrative failure is 
attributed to them, so that we have, for instance. Lord 
Lansdowne charged with failure in such a purely technical 
matter as the (erroneously supposed) inferiority of our field- 
guns in South Africa, with which he cannot, by the nature of 
things, have possibly had anything to do. But in ordinary 
times the current belief is somewhat as expressed in the follow- 
ing passage in a recent letter to the Times : 

One wonders what comes over men when appointed to Govennent office 
—whether they lose all feeling as Englishmen and think that the world was 


made, or the British Empire at least, that they might draw their salaries 
monthly and without disturbance. If any one ventures to call attention to 
any matter of urgent importance to the well-being, or even to the safety, of 
the empire, they immediately attempt to suppress him, by overwhelming him 
and bur}'ing him under tons of ^* minutes " as a rash disturber of their peace. 
Too often, alas ! they succeed. 

The vis inerlice of the permanent officials of all Government departments 
is so great that, even when a strong, patriotic and far-seeing statesman (a 
combination unfortunately not often met with in the politicians of this country) 
is appointed to the head of a department, such obstacles are interposed to any- 
thing and everything he may suggest and desire to see carried out, if these 
are not exactly in accordance with the tradition and ordinaiy routine of the 
office, that he becomes at last utterly worn out, and has to give up the attempt 
to bring business and common-sense principles to bear upon the Government 
of the country ; he subsides into the ordinary commonplace defender of, or 
apologist for, all official doings, and tries to quiet his conscience by hoping 
that the system may last or the peril be averted for his time. 

It does not seem to occur to people who hold these views 
that their theory is disproved by its very absurdity. Permanent 
officials are met with among us, and are found to be in no way 
different to all the rest of the world, nor in their morals and 
intelligence, or public spirit as regards other matters are they 
otherwise than they were before they were appointed, or than 
others hke them who have not been appointed ; and yet it seems 
to such critics reasonable to think that in these official positions 
they develop into such monsters as above described, arid that 
the successive ministers they serve are all incapable of judgment 
and of soft yielding disposition, easily imposed upon. It is 
important to observe that the parliamentary officials themselves 
never speak in this way, whether in or out of office. On the 
contrary, they invariably bear testimony to the value of the 
assistance they receive and the entire loyalty of the permanent 

We may take a few examples of defects which have recently 
been charged against the permanent Civil Service in order to 
show what is the real sotu-ce of them. The permanent staff of 
the Post Office has come in for a good deal of rough handling 
because the Postmaster-General refuses to adopt certain pro- 


posed improvements, in the service. The objection to most of 
them is found on examination to arise from their cost, which 
would diminish the revenue derived from the Post Office. 
That it should be a revenue department is clearly a matter of 
policy, for which successive Chancellors of the Exchequer alone 
are responsible, and not the permanent staff. No doubt, this 
principle having been adopted, it is the duty of the permanent 
officers to carry it out until it is reversed, and to advise 
their changing political chiefs from that pomt of view, 
thereby, of course, obstructing the reformers ; but this is not 
exercising '* a malign influence " due to innate perversity on 
the part of the permanent official ; he is merely doing his duty 
by carrying out his orders, and the reformer, if he wants the 
principle to be set aside, should attack the Chancellor of the 
Exchequer instead of reviling his subordinates. Take again the 
alleged want of information of Transvaal armament, said to be 
due to insufficient secret service money. I believe that the 
officers who were blamed on this occasion had, in fact, managed 
to get all the information required, but the insufficient supply 
of secret service money is a fact, and is due to the action of 
former Governments in yielding to the pressure of a small clique 
— ^to Parliament itself in fact Yet the blame of the supposed 
consequences was at once thrown upon the permanent 

The War Office, and more especially the civil side, is made 
the mark for torrents of abuse. I am under the impression 
that the organisation of the War Office is unduly cumbersome, 
and in some respects this could be altered by the minister, but 
in other respects it is largely due to the necessity for complying 
with the statutes which regulate the practice of audit and 
account and are intended to ensure the proper expenditure of 
stores and money and their due appropriation to the services for 
which they are provided by Parliament. A great deal of what 
is called " red tape " arises from the strictness with which these 
objects are ftdfilled, and any facility in conducting business 
obtained by a relaxation of this strictness might be very dearly 

No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 c 


purchased if it gave an opening for financial irregularities or 
carelessness. I venture, therefore, to think that in these 
matters it is the political element which is responsible and as 
this element is supplied by the choice of the people themselves 
they are themselves to blame for the shortcomings they believe 
they suffer from, and while people rail at this mysterious influ- 
ence called ** ofiicialism '' which is so mythical that nobody can 
fix it, but to which every politician however strong is supposed 
to succumb, they seldom or never bring to book the political 
officials at the head of affairs, though it is they who have all the 
power and are supposed to be responsible ; a rare exception 
being made in such a case as the Cordite matter in 1895, only 
because it suited party purposes. The trail of the party system 
is over it all The so-called responsibility of the ministers 
who are the heads of the great departments is in fact no 
responsibility at all. The worst that can happen to them if 
they fail from whatever cause and however culpable they may 
be is to lose their positions a little sooner than they otherwise 
would, but even this penalty is never inflicted on account of 
administrative failure. If the failure of any minister is such as 
to render it undesirable to include him in a future administra- 
tion it is usual to console him by creating him a peer just as if 
he had won the honour by his success. 

There are some who hold the doctrine that the country 
ought to know the opinions of its expert advisers of the various 
departments and should not be content to see through the eyes 
of the parliamentary officials, and the theory is that the Govern- 
ment would then be forced to do the right thing. This theory 
is evidently quite opposed to the one which puts all blame on 
the permanent official, because it reveals a suspicion that 
maladministration may be made possible by the views of the 
permanent officials being burked rather than be due to their 
" malign influence." But the aim is the same in both cases — 
viz., to throw the blame off the shoulders of the public at large 
which has chosen to make the Government the prize of a 
party system. Each party in turn has to try to get into power 


by means of conciliating the siifirages of a mass of electors, who 
from the necessity of the case cannot be fiilly informed on the 
merits of all the important matters which a Government has to 
deal with, so that however good a measure may be, or however 
much a minister may know it to be necessary, he cannot carry 
it out if it is of any magnitude and especially if it costs money, 
unless in some way a public opinion has been created in its 
favour, because his party opponent would surely turn the 
popular ignorance against him and he might not only fail to 
carry his measure but endanger his hold on office. 

But when the failure to carry out such a measure produces 
its natural effect, perhaps under some subsequent Government, 
the blame is most generally attributed to the negligence, 
obstruction, or want of foresight of the permanent staff. For 
instance, about 1846 the Government were aroused to the 
defenceless state to which the neglect and false economy of 
former years had reduced the country. They proposed a con- 
siderable expenditure to remedy this. But Cobden and others, 
with their prejudiced ignorance, so worked on the ignorance of 
the constituencies that they succeeded in forcing them to with- 
draw their proposals, so that the French Revolution of 1848, 
with its dangers, and the Crimean War found us still unpre- 
pared. But when the consequences of this condition of affairs 
developed themselves the natural failure was not attributed to 
its right cause, but was freely cast on the personnel of our 
army which the nation had refused to make efficient. 

The plain fact is that, under the existing phase of our Con- 
stitution, nothing of great importance can be carried through, 
especially if it costs money, unless the country has been pre- 
viously well instructed on it, and this very often can only be 
done by creating a " boom " or " scare." 

A " boom " was necessary in order to rouse the country to 
the necessity of very largely increasing our navy, as has been 
done within the last few years, and this has, as is well known, 
saved us from being in the most perilous position. We have 
pulled through the Transvaal War by the aid of an extraordi- 


nary outburst of feeling in the kingdom and the colonies 
which has enabled us immensely to increase the force our 
regular army could put in the field. We are, only now, warned 
by this example, increasing our artillery up to the strength it 
should have had even for the force originally sent to South 
Africa. Surely it is the politicians who are responsible for our, 
till lately, insufficient navy and our still insufficient army. No 
one would venture to say that the professional or non-political 
part of the Admiralty or War Office are likely to have opposed 
any "malign influence" or "obstructive officialism" to any 
suggestions for increasing our force. On the other hand, there 
can be no doubt that there always is a readiness on the part of 
party ministers to shirk the necessity for spending more money 
or increasing taxation, — steps always unacceptable to the ill- 
informed public unless it is aroused by a scare or a boom. Yet 
there are people who expend their ener^es in girding at " the 
organisation of the War Office," " official obstruction," and so 
on, when in fact it is the act, or negligence, or failure of our 
own chosen representatives which creates the difficulty. We 
might have the best possible War Office organisation, but it 
would be of no avail unless we had an available field-army much 
stronger than that which we sent to South Africa in 1899, and 
which exhausted our regular military strength. We fought 
through the Peninsular War with a War Office much less 
completely organised than we have at present, and need not be 
diverted from the main object of providing a sufficiently 
powerfiil force by allowing the cry for War Office reorgani- 
sation to be dragged as a red herring across the scent. 

I should be sorry if it were supposed that because I have 
tried to point out that our failures are for the most part trace- 
able to our political and party system, and not to any malign 
influences residing in the public offices, I wish to assert that 
there are no improvements to be made in the permanent 
service. But I do say that unless the political system is 
altered any radical change in the permanent system might 
easily make things worse instead of better. There have been 


at least two very important commissions to inquire into the 
permanent Civil Service within a small number of years, one 
presided over by Lord Playfair, the other by Sir Matthew 
Ridley, It is hardly conceivable, if it were so vitally inefficient 
or actively maleficent as some critics represent it to be, that 
such a condition would escape notice and comment by one or 
both of these bodies. No doubt the permanent Civil Service 
has the defects of its good qualities, but these can be largely 
counteracted by judicious measures. The condition of per- 
manent employment with a rising salary and a pension on 
retirement is a most valuable feature, but it should not be 
considered so sacred and be enforced so rigidly in favour of the 
employ^ as to tempt him to neglect his work or fail from want 
of goodwill. Nor should failure in ability in the course of 
service be passed over, and the development of ability should 
meet with appropriate reward. There are those who advocate 
the casting aside entirely of the principle of seniority in 
promotion and considering solely merit. I am under the 
impression that in any large business it is found impossible to 
ignore altogether the element of seniority on account of the 
dissatisfaction it weuld create among the staff; and, indeed, 
this must be the experience of anybody who has had to deal 
with such matters. But this does not exclude the desirability 
of selecting specially qualified men for special positions or of 
passing over for promotion those who show themselves un- 
worthy of it, both of which principles are recognised in the Civil 
Service, though perhaps they are not always duly enforced. 

Over-centralisation is an undoubted evil. When the War 
Department was formed in 1854 by the combination under 
one head of the duties formerly performed by the Colonial 
Secretary or Secretary for War, the Secretary at War, the 
Horse Guards, the Ordnance Department, the Commissariat 
Department of the Treasury and the Militia Department of 
the Home Office, the whole business was amalgamated as if 
it were one office. When in 1868 I took up an appointment 
in the Prison Department under the Home Office, I was at 


once struck by the immensely greater facility with which the 
business of my particular department was done. The reason 
was that the Prison Department was like a satellite with 
an organic life of its own ; whereas in the War Office each 
department could run only as part of the whole machine. 
It was as if an army of 100,000 men were organised as one 
division instead of being in ten divisions, each capable of 
independent action. 

It would not be difficult to provide against most of the 
defects which can justly be attributed to the permanent Civil 
Service, but notwithstanding these defects I think it would be 
safe to challenge any critic to show us any service which has 
ever been more reliable, more single-minded or on the whole 
more efficient than ours under its present conditions. My 
object has been to try and show that when the public is told to 
attribute any great failures to a sort of supernatural influence 
which is imbibed on entry into the Civil Service or grows up 
.ifterwards, its attention is diverted from the true cause of such 
failures, and therefore it is likely to be led to apply the wrong 
remedies, and perhaps introduce other evils much greater than 
those for which the permanent Civil Service can be held 

E. F. Du Cane. 


AT the conclusion of the instructive series of articles on 
China which Sir Robert Hart has contributed to the 
Fortnigktly Review, he says that the only remedy for our 
present difficulties which much thought suggests to him is to 
give a trial to the Golden Rule, and " let * Do unto others as 
you would have others do to you' be given an international 

But surely this admonition should have been addressed first 
to the Chinese ; for, as regards ourselves, do we not already 
treat Chinamen here in England as we would wish they should 
treat Englishmen in China ? While our representative in 
Peking was being attacked ; when every day brought news of 
fresh outrages, and massacres of defenceless women and 
children, under circumstances of indescribable horror; when 
we had what we believed certain information that the whole of 
the Legation had been murdered ; Chinamen in England were 
able to go where they would in perfect security, without let or 
hindrance, and without fear of danger. Then, as heretofore, 
they could come and trade as they liked, and travel as they 
liked; they could reside wherever they wished, and stay as 
long as they wished ; and wherever they went, and whatever 
they did, their persons and their property were secure. And 
as it is in England so it is in India, Burma, and the Straits 
Settlements, where thousands of Chinamen settle of their own 
accord under the British flag; enjoy aU the freedom and 


security which that aiFords ; engage in trade enterprises on a 
scale they were afraid even to contemplate under their own 
rapacious officials : prosper exceedingly and multiply imceas- 
ingly. In our young colonies alone are restrictions put upon 
them in British territory ; and with some reason, for Canada 
and Australia are still in the first stages of their national llfe^ 
and it is important that their foundations should be true and 
sound. Even there, however, Chinamen can count upon frdl 
secunty ot property and person. 

Everywhere, then, in the British Empire Chinamen are 
sure of security, and, except for special reasons in our young 
growing colonies (which, it may be remarked in passing, the 
Chinese might have built up for themselves centuries ago if 
they had displayed the same pluck and enterprise which our 
colonists have shown) they enjoy full freedom also. What 
more do we ask of the Chinese to accord to us ? Let them 
give us the same freedom to travel and trade in China as we 
give them to trade and travel in Great Britain, India, or the 
Straits, and ensure to us the same security of property and 
person as we afiP<N*d to them throughout the British Empire 
and the Chinese Question is solved at once. 

A glimmering of this side of the question seems to be just 
dawning upon the Chinese, for in a recent Imperial Edict 
officials were reminded that there were 100,000 Chinamen 
abroad who were enjoying freedom and security under the rule 
of foreigners, and the officials were enjoined accordingly to 
give foreigners in China due security. If only we could see 
this idea drilled and driven into the Chinese official mind and 
Chinamen be taught that they should treat us in China as we 
treat them in our country, our difficulties would at once be 

But Sir Robert Hart, perhaps because he has not left 
China for more than thirty years, takes no consideration of our 
treatment of the Chinese outside their own country : his 
articles refer only to our treatment of them in China. So 
when he says that we should do unto the Chinese as we should 


like to be done unto, he means that we should treat Chinese in 
China as we would like Chinese to treat Englishmen in 
England, and that we should not insist upon the Chinese 
granting us extra-territorial privileges, but put ourselves un- 
reservedly imder the laws of the country, and trust ourselves 
to their courts of justice in the same way as we expect China- 
men to submit themselves to our laws when they come to 
England. " To secure a settlement," he says, " only one 
change is necessary, but that is a complete change, a radical 
change — ^a change of principle • . . the principle of extra- 
territoriality — could we but give up this relations would at 
once right themselves, rancour disappear, and friendliness rule 

Now, next door to China is another country not dissimilar 
to her in character, and at one time equally anti-pathetic to 
foreigners. But Japan has not lagged behind the rest of the 
nations as China has ; she has moved with the times, and has 
thrown aside that isolation which it is impossible to maintain 
at this stage of the world s history. She has reformed, purified, 
and strengthened h» administration so thoroughly that we are 
now perfectly willing to entrust ourselves to her Courts ; we 
have given up our demands for extra territorial-privileges ; we 
submit ourselves, while in Japan, to the laws of the country, 
feeling that the Japanese will afford us the same freedom and 
security which any civilised Power of the West would give ; 
and on this condition we are allowed to trade, travel, and 
reside there as we should be permitted to in France, Germany, 
or Russia. 

What more could we desire than that China should inspire 
us with the same degree of confidence that Japan now does : 
and show us some signs that, if we submitted to her laws as we 
do to the laws of Japan, we could be sure of proper treatment ? 

Sir Robert Hart accurately sums up our demands when he 
says : ** What we want is, in a word, that our people shall be as 
safe and their interests receive as certain protection in China as 
elsewhere." But it is not encouraging to hear that '^ to go to 


the root of the matter at once» this will never be the case till 
we treat China and the Chinese in just the same way as we 
treat any other civilised Power or people, say America or the 
Americans ; '' for how can we class the Chinese among the 
civilised Powers till they have followed the example of Japan 
and redeemed their past ? Sir Robert Hart, by the interpola- 
tion of the word " other " before civilised, would apparently 
put them on the same footing as ourselves, but are they 
entitled at present to such a position? What has been the 
history of our relations with China ? 

From the beginning of our intercourse with the Chinese we 
have met with continual obstruction, ceaseless, never-ending 
opposition, cuhninating at times m acts of the grossest 
treachery. Our trade was, up to the middle of the nine- 
teenth century, confined by them to the single port of Canton 
— a port at the extremity of the Empire furthest removed from 
the Court, and from those provinces which produced the 
principal articles of Chinese export, or consumed those of 
foreign import. Besides this, the privilege of trading with 
foreigners was restricted to a small body of monopolists called 
Hong merchants, who had not only the exclusive nght of 
dealing with the subjects of Christian states, but were invested 
with the actual control over them as a barrier between them 
and the Government of the country. The trade was hampered 
in every way. Mandarins simply blackmailed our merchants, 
and jurisdiction of an intolerable nature was claimed by the 
Chinese over Europeans. Lastly, the Chinese Government 
conducted its intercourse with the civilised nations of the West 
on degrading terms of inequality, and allowed its functionaries 
to assume an affected superiority over the representatives of 
those nations in their official correspondence. 

We made many efforts to remedy this unsatisfactory state 
of affairs. At the end of the eighteenth century Pitt sent out 
Lord Macartney at the head of an imposing mission to seek by 
direct intercourse with the emperor to improve the conditions 
under which we traded with China. But, though the emperor 


himself proved friendly, the obstruction of the official ring pre- 
vented the attainment of any satisfactory results. In 1816 
another important mission under Lord Amherst was sent to 
China, but it, too, was unable to improve the position in any 
way. A third great attempt was made in 1884, when Lord 
Napier was sent to Canton as Superintendent of Trade ; but 
after many futile attempts to negotiate with the Chinese he 
died out there from sheer exhaustion. 

Three great efforts had been made to come to an ordinary 
business understanding with the Chinese as to the conduct of 
our trade with them ; but each had failed. The obstructions 
put in the way of it and the arrogance of the officials only 
increased, till at last, in 1840, we were compelled to send an 
armed force for the purpose, in the words of Lord John 

Of obtaining reparation for the insults and injuries offered to her Majesty s 
superintendent and her Majesty's subjects by the Chinese Government; in 
the second place, of obtaining for the merchants, trading with China, an in- 
demnification for the loss of their property incurred by threats of violence 
offered by persons under the direction of the Chinese Government ; and in the 
last place of obtaining certain security that persons and property, in future 
trading with China, should be protected from insult and injury, and that their 
trade and commerce be maintained upon a proper footing. 

Then ensued the war which was called the " Opium war," 
but, which according to so high an authority as Mr. E. H. 
Parker, the Chinese themselves admit to have been caused by 
the stoppage of trade and not by the destruction of opium. 

But even after the war our intercoiu^se was still unsatis- 
factory. The people of Canton placarded the town with a 
notice in the following terms : ** Now for the native Chinese 
and foreigners to mix together will indeed be a vexatious tiling, 
in the highest degree annoying to the feelings. It is a matter 
which most deeply concerns every one of us — gentry and people, 
both in our families and in our estates, and can by no means 
be permitted." And Sir J. Davies, our envoy in China, 
observed that '' among some in power there was a secret feeling 


which rather sympathised with than disapproved of the temper 
which actuated the people against foreigners, and the leaders 
no doubt received some quiet encouragement'' 

Ten years later Sir J. Davies' successor wrote in the same 
strain of the Chinese that " their purpose is now, as it ever was, 
not to invite, not to feu^ilitate, but to impede and resist the 
access of foreigners." Eventually the Canton Viceroy cate- 
gorically refused to admit the English to Canton, or to have 
any personal relations with the hated foreigners, and from this 
cause rose the second Chinese war of 1857, in which the 
French also joined, and it is noticeable as typifying the attitude 
of the Chinese towards us that it was found necessary to insert 
a special clause in the treaty concluded at the end of the war 
that the word *' barbarian " as applied to Europeans should be 
no longer used. Yet so ingrained was their antipathy to foreign 
intercourse that as soon as the British fleet had withdrawn the 
Chinese again resumed their annoying attitude, they sought 
to inflict further indignities upon the English, and it became 
necessary a third time to send an expedition against them. It 
was on this occasion that Messrs. Loch and Parkes (afterwards 
Lord Loch and Sir Harry Parkes) were treacherously seized 
and tortured by the Chinese while negotiating terms of peace. 
The result of this third expedition was the occupation of Peking, 
and the final ratification by the Chinese of the Treaty which 
had regulated our intercourse with them till they attacked our 
representatives in Peking last year. 

I have made this short resumd of our relations with the 
Chinese so that we may review their attitude towards us not 
at one particular moment or on one special occasion, but in its 
entirety during a century. We have made eflfort after effort to 
regularise our relations by friendly means; but the Chinese 
throughout have shown themselves stubbornly unwilling to 
hold intercourse with Western nations as civilised nations are 
accustomed to deal with one another. And that they are 
still disqualified for treatment as a civilised Power we have 
Sir Robert Hart's own evidence : 


That the attack on the Legations was not due [he says] to failure to under- 
stand the inviolability of the representative character can hardly be questioned 
. . . that it did occur is disgraceful to the Government itself, humiliating to all 
connected with it and a warning for all future time. 

Let us then take the warning. We cannot yet treat China 
as a civilised Power — ^as we now treat her neighbour, Japan. 
The impediment which has always stood in the way has 
been the overweening conceit and obstruction of the official 

The isolation in which as a people they have lived [says Sir Robert Hart], 
the habit of considering theirs the chief of kingdoms and all others tributaries, 
and the intellectual pride which superiority of cult has developed in all its 
intensity, have combined to lead the Chinese to expect from all who approach 
them an acknowledgment of superiority and a submissive tone and attitude. 

National pride is an excellent trait in the character of a 
people if it is thoroughly justified and is kept within reasonable 
limits. But the Chinese of the present day have little to be 
proud of and much to be ashamed of. Japan has far more to 
be proud of than China has, and yet Japan treats European 
nations as equals, whilst China seeks to treat them as inferiors. 
Chinese national pride has simply degenerated into conceit, and 
just because this conceit has been at the bottom of all trouble 
it becomes the more essential for us to make the establishment 
of our true position in regard to them absolutely dear. The 
Chinese mandarin must in the first place be made to under- 
stand that an Englishman is his equal ; and then we may 
expect security. Again, to quote Sir Robert Hart : " All the 
same had the Chinese officials ever3rwhere carried on their 
duties intelligently and energetically, and the Chinese people 
been everywhere taught to treat the foreigner in their midst as 
one of themselves, there need have been no such trouble *' as 
the recent risings against us. 

Our course therefore is dear. We have to unceasingly 
impress upon the officials that they m/ust do their duty, and 
teach the Chinese people to treat us in China as we treat them 
in England. 


And in my opinion we should do well to concentrate our 
attention and our efforts upon impressing that one point alone 
upon the Chinese. We often talk about setting up a stable 
government in China; reforming its finances, reforming its 
army, reforming its navy, reforming this, that and the other. 
But I personally am no greater believer in extensive reforms in 
China than (I should gather from his article) Sir Robert Hart 
is ; and it always appears to me childish to talk of them as 
many Englishmen do. Even men who have lived long there, 
and members of ParKament who ought presumably to have 
some knowledge of the conduct of public affairs, recommend 
long lists of reforms which they say we must carry out in 
China. The entire revenue system of this the hugest Empire 
in the world must be radically changed; the administra- 
tive machine re-organised throughout; and the army and 
navy placed upon an altogether different footing. If any of 
those who glibly advocate these extensive measures had had 
practical experience in reforming an Asiatic state they would 
realise how futile were their aspirations. In India we have 
over the native states an influence which we may perhaps 
never possess over Cliina ; and yet there we do not even 
attempt to carry out such huge schemes of reform as are so 
confidently advocated for China. In one of the native states 
over which I have recently held political charge, my predecessors 
for thirty years advocated the construction of a single metalled 
road, and it was only when the old Chief died that the road was 
made. Throughout his lifetime he contended that what was 
good enough for his forefathers was good enough for him; 
they had always ridden horses, and not driven in carriages, so 
he would ride too, and no road was therefore necessary. But, 
it will be said, the Chinese are not so backward as this conserva- 
tive old Rajput Chief, and the Viceroys on the Yangtse are 
most intelligent and progressive. So was the Prime Minister 
of another state in my political charge. He was an imcle of 
the Chief ; he had been Prime Minister for twenty-five years : 
no man had greater power and influence in the State than he 


had; he could speak English; he read the English papers 
every day ; he realised the backwardness of the State ; he saw 
most clearly where reforms were needed ; he ardently desired 
to see those reforms effected ; and he knew he could count on 
the support of the British Political Agent in carrying them out 
At the same time the Political Agent, because the State had run 
hopelessly into debt, had absolute control over its finances. 
Yet even under such favourable circumstances as these reforms 
have been very, very slowly effected. One of the most urgent 
was the reform of the army, a useless and expensive rabble for 
whose maintenance there is absolutely no necessity in present 
day circumstances. Yet to this day that army remains almost 
as useless an encumbrance as ever to the State.- The dignity of 
the chief is hurt by any reduction in its numbers : the officers 
and men consider they hold their positions by prescriptive 
hereditary right; and, if it is suggested to them that they 
should do some useful work and gradually replace the police, 
not only do they themselves protest against being used for such 
an ignoble purpose, but the police officials also beg that such 
worthless men may not be put in their charge. I see no reason 
to believe that it would be any easier to reform the army of 
China than it has been to reform the army of this Indian 
Native State. And those who desire an example nearer 
home may reflect on the difficulty we find in reforming our 
own army. 

One other lesson we may learn from our Indian experience 
with Native States to show how great are the obstacles which 
every long-standing arrangement puts in the way of re-arrrange- 
ment. It has frequently happened that during the minority 
of a Chief, the administration of a Native State has come 
directly under the control of a British Resident or Political 
Agent, and that under his guidance, measures of reform have 
been introduced; the police, or the army, or the revenue 
system has been re-modelled and a thorough attempt has been 
made to place the administration on a business footing before 
it was handed over to the Chief on his attaining his majority* 


But it has been our experience that if too large a measure of 
reform is attempted, if we seek in a short space of time to 
effect great changes, chaos instead of improvement ensues. 
An administration is formed of a large number of individuals, 
and the character of the whole must depend upon the cha- 
racter of those individuals. If they are corrupt, and, by nature 
and training, opposed to change, it is not of the slightest use 
to expect that an honest and progressive administration can be 
formed of them. Strong outside influence may give an im- 
petus in the desired direction and may guard the administra- 
tion from taking a wrong one. But no power on earth will 
make a sound building out of bad materials. Until the 
materials themselves are improved no good edifice will be 

Advocates of reform in China seem, however, to have 
vaguely floating in their minds, ideas of what we have accom- 
plished in Egypt, and in the portion of India which is directly 
administered by British officials. But in those cases we have 
the country in direct military occupation; we are able to 
impose our will, and in the highest positions of the administra- 
tion we place the ablest Europeans we can find. What we do 
in fact, is to bring sound materials from outside, put them in 
the most important places in the edifice, and keep them there 
by the outside pressure of our military force. We should err 
greatly in comparing China with Egypt or the British Provinces 
of India. It is only with the Native States of India which are 
still governed by their own rulers that China of the present day 
can with acciu*acy be compared. And if in these Indian States, 
with a population averaging between three and four himdred 
thotisands of inhabitants, it is impossible to affect large reforms 
in a short time, what can we expect to accomplish in China 
which has a population of three or four hundred millions of 
inhabitants, and over which we have nothing like the political 
influence we possess over a Native State in India ? 

Progress and improvement if they are to come at all in 
China, and if they are to b^ worth anything, will I believe 


come by the process of imitation rather than by that of 
coercion. Any forcing of reforms upon the Chinese by 
foreigners is, moreover, just as likely to set them against us as 
to produce progress. Here again an example from our Indian 
experience may give us help. For many years the ruler of one 
of the most conservative Native States had steadily resisted the 
advice of successive Residents to improve his administration 
and had only grown more sulky the oftener advice was proffered 
him. But when he attended the great Durbar at Delhi, where 
all the Chiefs of India were assembled to hear the Queen 
proclaimed Empress of India, he realised for the first time 
what a number of other chiefs there were as great and even 
greater than himself, and that many of these were advancing 
far ahead of him. Then he saw clearly how backward he was ; 
and on returning to his State he set to work of his own accord 
to imitate the progressive chiefs. What the advice of a British 
Resident had never been able to accomplish the opportunity for 
comparison effected in a few short days. So it may be with 
China. As she comes out into the world and realises that she 
is not at the head of the universe, but very far behind even her 
despised little neighbour, she may attempt to imitate Japan. 
We read accounts even now, indeed, of progressive Chinese 
officials and young students going over to Japan to study 
for themselves. And in this way only lies the hope for 

In the meantime while China is learning her lesson our wisest 
course would be to curb our inherent craving for reforming the 
administration of peoples we very imperfectly understand; 
and to concentrate our attention upon the more important and 
legitimate business which has been defined above, that is merely 
of ensuring that we are treated with the same respect we show 
to others. I would go farther than this even, and would say 
that having focused our attention on this one object, and 
eliminated other distractions from our field of view, we should 
direct our thus concentrated attention upon achieving our 
object in that part of China in particular, which, because of its 

No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 d 


accessibility to our sea-power, we have come to regard as 
specially under our influence. 

I notice that the Russians proceed on this system of con- 
centrated and persistent effort, and for years I have watched 
the work of their consul in Chinese Turkestan and marked 
the gradual spread of his influence. When I arrived at 
Kashgar in 1887 he had only recently been established and 
Russian influence was small. Even a few years later a Russian 
merchant, whom I had met in a distant part of Turkestan, 
was thrown into prison by the Chinese and barbarously treated. 
In 1890 and 1891, when I again visited Kashgar, Russian 
influence was growing rapidly. And at the present time I 
hear it is incontestable. Year by year the Russian Consulate 
had insisted, on every little point, that their treaty rights should 
be observed to the letter, and the Chinese oflicials have been 
taught by many a sharp experience that whatever else they 
do they must fiilly respect the rights of a Russian subject 
So important, indeed, have the Chinese learnt to regard this 
consideration that they look upon an ability to preserve friendly 
relations with the Russian Consul as the chief qualification for 
the post of Governor of Kashgar. No governor who cannot 
" get on " with the Russian Consul is now appointed to that 
place. At the same time the consul, so far as I am aware, has 
never attempted to affect or to recommend reforms, or to inter- 
fere with the purely internal administration. But the one single 
object which he has persistently sought to attain, and which he 
has incontestably attained, is the respect of the Chinese for the 
rights of Russian subjects. 

Similar results we might well seek to attain in those parts 
of China which are as accessible to our influence as Turkestan 
is to Russian influence. I doubt if we shall ever eflfect very 
much from Peking itself, for the capital is distant from the 
points where our power can most easily be made felt ; and 
besides this our representative there lacks the inestimable 
advantage of personal contact with those in whom ^e control 
of affairs really lies. Though at European capitals our 


ambassadors can and do discuss important matters personally 
with the rulers of the states to which they are accredited, and 
with the principal ministers ; in Peldn our representative is only 
on a very few occasions, and as a great favour, allowed even the 
privilege of making a ceremonial bow to the Chinese Emperor ; 
he has no opportunity of discussing business, however impor- 
tant, with his august Majesty, nor even with the chief 
ministers of the empire ; but has to carry on business with a 
board of inferior officials called the Tsung-li-Yamdn. Under 
such circumstances we have no means of keeping our relations 
with the Chinese on a satisfactory footing ; they must be 
constantly liable to the violent disruptions of last year. In the 
Yangtse region, however, we are better placed. There the 
Chinese officials have the best means of judging of our status 
and forming an opinion as to whether we are or are not their 
inferiors. As a consequence they did during the recent crisis 
show some respect for our rights ; they did do their duty, and 
by so doing prevent the spread of that outburst which arose 
against us in North China where our influence is less felt, and 
we are consequently less respected. At Shanghai, Nanking, 
Hankow and other treaty ports along the river, our navy is 
always en evidence ; and at the critical period we were able to 
land Indian troops. It was thus possible to bring before the 
eyes of the Chinese our two great sources of strength in Asia, 
our navy and our Indian army ; and, what was equally impor- 
tant, our officials were able to keep in close personal contact 
with the Chinese officials who directed affiiirs in the region — 
the Yangtse Viceroys — instead of having to deal with under- 
lings. Our Consul-General at Shanghai with the British Admiral 
beside him, and the fleet and Indian troops behind him, could 
talk the situation over personally with the great Viceroys who 
have such power and independence in China. It never, there- 
fore, became necessary to resort to active military measures in 
the Yangtse region, and our interests were preserved without 
the use of force. 

For these reasons I think that, having concentrated our 


attention on the simple, single object of securing respect from 
the Chinese, we should, in practice, seek to carry out this 
object, chiefly and more especially, in the Yangtse region. 
Here lies our opportunity. Here we can bring ourselves into 
contact with the Chinese oflicials on terms which command 
respect, and the chance is given us of using that genius for 
impressing Orientals which is the secret of our influence in 
Asia, and which has so often been displayed by our represen- 
tatives in China. 

In the Yangtse region by the presence of our fleet and the 
proximity of India we can ensure respect ; and by the oppor- 
tunities afforded for exerting personal influence we can create 
that friendliness which Sir Robert Hart rightly considers as 
more important than progress. Upon these foundations our 
position in China must rest. 

It will remain with the Chinese to decide whether they will 
rouse themselves to imitate Japan, come into line with the 
civilised world, and treat foreigners as civilised nations have 
learned to treat each other : or whether they will permit their 
country to sink into the ignominious position of a protected 

Francis Edward Younghusband. 


AT the conclusion of a great war many questions are 
brought under consideration with grave interest to all 
who have been nearly affected by it ; and with lessons to be 
learnt for future guidance which many mistakes and short- 
comings have brought prominently to our notice. But 1 
venture to think that none are of more importance than the 
provision to be made for the support of the widow and orphan, 
or for the help of those incapacitated by woimds, and at all 
times for the care of the wives and families of those who have 
gone out on foreign service. The War Office directly and by 
help of the Soldiers* Effects Fimd, and the Admiralty through 
the Greenwich Hospital Fimd, already make some provision to 
meet such cases, and the Government are pledged to bring out 
a scheme of pensions for widows of all below the rank of officers 
losing their lives in or by war service, officers' widows and 
orphans being already granted, imder existing regulations, 
special war pensions. This is just as it should be, but the idea 
that many entertain that this would enable us to put an end 
to all charitable assistance is a most delusive one. 

When a great war or famine, or other great catastrophe, 
occurs, it is neither possible nor desirable to restrict local effort ; 
there must ever be a necessity for supplementing any Govern- 
ment scheme of allowances ; peculiar circumstances of distress 
must produce calls for more help than any general scale of 


Government allowances according to rank would afford ; again, 
a Government scheme could hardly recognise the widows of 
those married without leave, or those married contrary to law, 
and in such cases the careful management of charitable funds 
would be able to meet many sad cases which the necessary 
adherence to regulation of a Government department would 
leave out in the cold. 

But although we do not desire to check charitable efforts, 
we do very much desire to regulate them, and to prevent that 
overlapping which has been such a grievous evil in dealing with 
the Transvaal War cases, resulting, not only in an extravagant 
waste of funds, but in the demoralising effects of indiscriminate 
charity upon the recipients. 

During the great war with Russia an endeavour was made 
to regulate the distribution of such charitable funds, and as far 
as it went, in reference to the distribution of the moneys 
entrusted to the Patriotic Fimd Commission, it was a great 
success. Under the presidency of Prince Albert, who took an 
active interest in the work, and by the help of such men as 
Lord St. Leonards, Admiral Lord Colchester, the Right Hon. 
Henry Corry, and others, and with the able advice of Mr. 
Hubbard (afterwards Lord Addington) as to financial invest- 
ments, a very sensible scheme was put forth and carefully acted 

It is noteworthy that in the original Commission, in addition 
to the names of the Royal Commissioners, the following were 
named as Commissioners in Aid, thus embracing all parts of 
the country in the collection and distribution of funds : Lord- 
Lieutenants and Sheriffs of counties. Lord Mayors, Lord 
Provosts, Mayors, Provosts, Bailifis and Bailies for the time 
being of cities, boroughs, and corporate towns ; and the desired 
effect was obtained, for there was very little, if any, over- 
lapping, and a generous and prompt response to the appeal for 
aid came from aU parts of the Empire, the large sum of 
£1,466,000 having been handed over to the management of 
the Commissioners. This has enabled the Commissioners to 


help in the education and support of 6000 diildren, and to give 
suitable allowances to over 4000 widows, over 1000 of whom 
are still receiving Assistance. 

Many special funds were raised by different Committees — 
the Captain Fund, the Eurydice^ the Zulu War Fund, the 
Atalanta Fimd, the Ashantee War Fund, &c., and after partial 
administration by the Committees were handed over to be 
administered by the Patriotic Fund Commissioners. 

When the Victoria went down the Commissioners availed 
themselves of their powers and made a direct appeal for funds, 
and though there were some local funds raised at Portsmouth 
and Malta very little overlapping occurred, and the balances of 
these were paid into the Victoria Relief Fund raised by the 
Commissioners, bringing the total of the fund to £73,265. 
When, however, on the breaking-out of the Transvaal War 
the Royal Commissioners again made a direct appeal through 
the Lord Mayor of London, although a large sum was com- 
mitted directly to the management of the Commission from all 
parts of the Empire, there were a large number of special funds, 
the collectors of which distinctly claimed local management, 
and refused to trust their money to the management of the 
Commissioners of the Patriotic Fund. In fact, the Commission 
had come to be one of the best-abused bodies in the United 
Kingdom. As I still consider that the original design of the 
Commission — carried out in all its fulness and with its powers 
enlarged to deal, in cor^unction with other bodies, with the 
cases of the wounded soldiers and sailors and the families left 
behind when the husbands are on foreign service — is the true 
solution of all our difficulties ^ I must add a few words to explain 
the reasons for the general want of confidence which undoubt- 
edly has arisen in the administration by the Commissioners. 
It has become almost a proverb to say, " What is in a name ? " 
I venture to think if the Commission had been originally called 
a " Commission for the Support of the Wives and Children 
of those who have lost their lives in War," much of the 
present misapprehension would not have arisen. Under the 


grander title of the Royal Patriotic Fund they have often 
been applied to for help to the wounded or aged soldier or 
sailor, which of course is entirely beyond their powers. Again, 
the limit in the original Commission that the widow must trace 
her husband's death to the effect of wounds received or sickness 
contracted during the war, obliged the Commission to decline 
many cases, causing great heart-burning — to say nothing of 
other applications quite outside the rules, and of the cases of 
widows whom for serious misbehaviour the Commissioners 
have from time to time been obliged to strike off the relief 

But perhaps the greatest and most persistent cause of mis- 
understanding is the large amount of investments, and the large 
amount of admitted surpluses on nearly all the funds. From 
this misunderstanding the Commissioners have been deliberately 
accused of capitalising the money and only giving to the reci- 
pients a miserable pittance from the interest of the capitalised 

The Royal Commissioners never entertained such an idea. 
When the war was still raging, to make the money go farther 
they invested £668,000 in terminable annuities^ and it was only 
after the imexpected closing of the war that, under actuarial 
advice, having provided enough to secure sufficient payment 
to all probable recipients, the Commissioners built and 
endowed schools and purchased nominations in other schools 
on behalf of the sufferers of future wars. 

As to the large investments^ it is as plain as A 6 C that if 
you are to secure the payment of a pension to a young widow 
who may (if not re-married) be on the Fund till she is eighty 
or more, you must invest capital to secure such pa3niients ; 
under actuarial advice certain sums are set apart which with 
the expenditure of capital and interest will secure such 
promised pensions to all the widows on the list. 

In dealing with 4000 widows these capitalised sums must be 
very large. 

Then, as to the admitted surpluses, these have arisen 


mainly from the increased value of the investments in these 
later years, since gilt-edged securities have risen enormously in 

To illustrate this, and to show at the same time the 
absurdity of the accusation that any have been defrauded of 
the original £1,466,000 entrusted to the Commissioners' charge, 
a statement in the 18th Report, page 6, shows that the 
original amount was brought up to £2,068,000 by amounts 
received in dividends, interests, annuities, and the result of 
changes in the investment, and even up to that date, 1879, 
no less a sum than £1,518,600 had been spent on the widows 
and orphans of the war. The Royal Commissioners have up 
to date expended twice the money originally entrusted to them, 
and are now supporting under their last Commission Russian 
War widows married before the peace. Then as to the sur- 
pluses which have been fairly won by the increased value 
of good investments, the Act of 1881 specially dealt with them, 
ordering them to be paid into a general fimd, as a nucleus for 
sufferers in future wars. Mr. Justice Henn Collins' Committee 
ignored all reference to past administration, directing its con- 
sideration to the present administration of the Transvaal War 
Funds. It was overwhelmed by the want of confidence in the 
Conuxission manifested on all sides (to which I have just 
referred) and to the fearful amoimt of overlapping which has 
occurred by the attempt to deal with these matters by indepen- 
dent committees without any guiding authority. 

I am informed that the Committee desired to reflect upon 
the Royal Commissioners' management of the Transvaal Funds 
entrtisted to them. But this was a brutum fulmen, for what- 
ever has been granted can only be provisional till the war 
is over, and the full number of widows and children and the 
total sum available to meet such charge are all definitely 

It was maintained that the Royal Commissioners ought to 
give the widows at least eight shillings a week or ten, instead 
of five or six ; but a rough estimate will show that continuance 


even of these latter rates might lead to bankruptcy of the fund 
if it were not for the promised pensions by the Treasury and the 
War Office, and the hope that the holders of other funds will 
agree to work together with the Royal Commission. It is a 
noteworthy fact that the great recommendation of Lord 
Justice Henn Collins' Committee was but a repetition of a 
recommendation for the creation of a consultative council 
already made by a Committee of the Royal Commissioners 
of the Patriotic Fund, of which the late lamented Ix)rd 
Herschell was Chairman, and adopted by a House of Com- 
mons Select Committee in 1896. 

To avoid overlapping we must have all local committees in 
close accord with the central body, who must have a power of 
supervising their recommendations. In some way the work of 
the Soldiers' and Sailors' Families Committees should be 
under supervision to make their action more uniform : when 
large sums — perhaps in excess of their actual requirements — 
are given to wives in the absence of their husbands, it too often 
induces them to give up work which they had before willingly 
undertaken, and in case of their becoming widows great dis- 
appointment will be caused from the widows' pension being a 
great reduction from the former allowance given them as wives. 
I know also from sad experience the demoralising effect of 
giving a widow more than she had before; she too often is 
induced to give up work for her family which she willingly 
undertook. The great lesson to be learnt from these things is 
a complete general agreement in the distribution of funds. The 
funds contributed are in many cases the outcome of great self- 
denial on the part of the donors, and it is our duty to take care 
that they are not wastefuUy distributed. The original rule of 
the Commissioners was assuredly the best — ^to help those who 
were able to work to maintain themselves, and to give them a 
" living wage" in sickness and old age. 

The first great lesson then is the importance of careful 
supervision to prevent imposition and the giving of the funds 
to unworthy recipients. A careful consideration of these points 


may enable us in future to supplement the Government allow- 
ance and to help others outside the Government scheme ; but 
to do this effectually relief must be given under certain general 
principles. The original scheme for distributing the Russian 
War Fund was laid down by the master-mind of Albert the 
Goody ably supported by first-rate administrators, and the 
principles then laid down have in practice witnessed to the 
wisdom of the first rules of administration. In the forty-six 
years work there must have been mistakes and shortcomings 
in the administration of the Fund, but it would be very unwise 
in consequence of this to depart wantonly from the original 
scheme. To prevent overlapping there must be some central 
authority to maintain sound principles of administration ; sub- 
ject to this, executive committees fully representing the 
subscribers to each division of the Funds, and in close connec- 
tion with local committees should be allowed great freedom, 
but in all things it is essential that Charitable Funds, raised by 
the public often at great individual self-sacrifice, should be 
administered under sound actuarial advice and with a strict 
audit of accounts. 



THE extraordinary display of hostility towards this country 
on the part of the German press and, it is to be feared, 
of the majority of the German nation, which the Transvaal 
War brought to a climax, but which is evidently destined to 
outlive that war, as it has existed before it, has very natu- 
rally astonished people in England. We are absolutely at a 
loss to suggest any cause that we can be supposed to have 
given for that strong outburst of adverse feeling. We, on our 
side, have always studied to play the part of good neighbours 
by our half-kinsmen on the Continent. Willingly setting an 
example of the " open door," we have freely admitted them to 
our coasts, our markets, our colonies. Keen competitors as 
we know them to be, we have allowed them to carry on their 
competition against ourselves right in our midst To those 
who have come to settle amongst us we have gladly held out the 
right hand of fellowship. Many of these have become part of 
oiu^elves ; the remainder do not, at any rate, judge us as do 
their countrymen at home. We have rejoiced at their union 
in a strong and prosperous empire. One of our ministers has 
gone so far as publicly to offer them an alliance — which they 
themselves had previously desired — only to find that the offer 
was contemptuously rejected. All that our neighbours do to 
demonstrate their ill-will does not, it is quite true, affect the 
conduct of their Government, except by lending every now 
and then a rather brusque and even offensive tone to its com- 


munications, addressed to us, but intended for " the gallery," 
such as Count Billow's recent " abrupt " message. But so power- 
ful an expression of public opinion as we see in Germany even 
quasi-absolute Governments cannot under all circumstances be 
counted upon to ignore, more particularly in times of internal 
crisis. And in any case an abiding ^' union of hearts," or 
friendly relations, such as we naturally desire to see established 
if they are attainable, are scarcely possible with a nation filled 
with prejudice and animosity, which not only does not hesitate 
to express its dislike very freely, but goes beyond that in 
putting, in utter disregard of the truth, an invidious construc- 
tion upon all our acts, and sacrificing even the highest moral 
interests, as happened in the case of the Armenian atrocities, to 
its hatred of us, deliberately and falsely giving it out that the 
reports of those horrid massacres were nothing but " English 
lies," invented " with an object." 

We ask ourselves in surprise : What can be the cause of all 
this Berserker fury ? Envy, resentment of our haughty manner, 
some deep game — ^all these things may account for some of the 
feeling exhibited, but not for all that settled and continuous 
flood of apparent hatred which now astonishes us. 

There is one reassuring feature about this protracted display 
of ill-will. It has lasted some time, it is true, as years go. 
But measured by the life of nations, it is only of very recent 
origin. Up to the time when Prince Bismarck set out upon 
his bold career of conquest and aggrandisement, so far from 
being hated, we were, on the contrary, looked upon with a very 
friendly eye, at any rate by the bulk of the German nation — 
by everything, in fact, that was popular in it. That nation 
admired our greatness, our freedom ; it never grudged us so 
much as a foot of colonial territory. It remembered that we 
two had never been engaged in war with one another, except in 
special cases, under compulsion, and that as fast allies we had 
fought out together the great battles of the Reformation and 
those of European freedom against Louis XIV. and Napoleon. 
It thanked us for having helped it by our example to 


re-nationalise its literature, which had become servilely French, 
and cherished the hope that we might perform the same service 
for it in the domain of politics, by enabling it to obtain for 
itself our coveted unity and self-government. English pre- 
cedents and English customs were freely quoted by way of 
example and argument in Parliament, so continuously, and as 
such conclusive arguments, as to make even the all-powerfiil 
champion of extended prerogative, Herr von Bismarck, wince 
imder the oft-repeated rebuke. 

We have now come to the very reverse of all this. There 
is nothing that we can do that is not censured in Germany. 
Every inch of our colonies is supposed to have been virtually 
filched from that country, which goes on "pegging out 
claims," so far as it can, behind our back, in order to forestall 
us, at any rate on new ground, deliberately frustrating thereby 
such favourite schemes of ours as the North and South 
African Railway by means of sly interposition, and glorying 
in " treading on the lion's tail." Some of this animosity is no 
doubt designedly "put on." It is to serve the purpose of 
obtaining a higher price for German co-operation or consent, 
where such can be given, and of making us more pliant in view 
of German demands. In this art German politicians are 
known to be special adepts. Much of it also is manifestly 
due only to the novelty of Germany's consciousness of her own 
greatness. Germany has been small, and divided, and insigni- 
ficant, so long that, like a young man rapidly grown to 
maturity, she does not quite know what to do with all her 
newly gotten strength. She must needs show it, and that means 
coming into collision with others. Under the sway of Prussian 
militarism people in Germany are not accustomed to measure 
their words. Strong language is considered " all in the day's 
work." The general addresses it to the colonel, as the private 
does, having it handed down to him through a scale of ranks, 
to the civilian, the first-class passenger to the railway guard, 
and the railway guard to the third-class passenger. That is 
considered merely a convenient form of serviceable emphasis. 


There is supposed to be nothing in it. A gentleman now 
dead, at that time chief editor of the leading newspaper pub- 
lished in Hamburg — ^whieh city used to be so pro-English as 
almost to count as an English advanced post — ^when ques- 
tioned by the present writer in 1889 upon the remarkable 
change observable in public sentiment, frankly replied : " We 
are not hostile to England. We used to suffer ourselves to be 
barked at. Now we hark back.'' That "barking back" is 
often overdone, of course, and not infrequently indulged in 
without the provocation of previous barking on the other side. 
Allowance ought also to be made for the disappointing 
discovery which dawned upon Germany when, waking up late 
in the day to the value of colonies, she suddenly set her heart 
upon acquiring such — ^the discovery that practically nearly all 
territory worth having had been already occupied by ourselves. 
We seemed to have forestalled her at all points. This was of 
course no more than might have been expected, no more than 
Germany would have done in our place. While Germans were 
fighting out their intestinal feuds — Prussians against Austrians, 
and Saxons against Prussians — England peacefully consolidated 
her power, took up commerce, conquered the world's markets, 
and spread out h» rule over all the globe. It cost Germany 
not a little in blood and treasure to make good her position in 
the world. England seemed to have done this without any 
serious sacrifice that short-memoried Germans could re- 
member — without, at any rate, engaging recently in any 
European war. The reflection rankled so much in German 
minds that the advantages which we were held to have enjoyed 
came to be considered as scarcely fair. We must have acted 
disingenuously, setting others by the ears among themselves to 
fight our battles for us, and resorting to the practice of schem- 
ing and intriguing which is so often wrongly laid to the charge 
of " perfidious Albion." When Prince Henry set out on his 
memorable voyage to China, armed with that " mailed fist " 
which easily secured for his country Kiao-Chau, but subse- 
quently set the world ablaze vrith a Chinese war, it seemed a 


perfect revelation to Germans that almost every port at which 
his vessel touched was seen to be flying the Union Jack. 
German newspapers went so far as to make a grievance of it. 
All this is perhaps very natural. But it is scarcely reasonable. 
Allowance ought also to be made for a further fact which 
people in this country do not generally realise, because very 
few among them so much as suspect its existence. For 
centuries Germany had been divided, and therefore helpless. 
As it happens, it was an English king who, at the Pope's and 
the German archbishops' instigation, first brought this state 
of things about, letting in the troubles of the deplorable 
interregnum, " the terrible time, when there was no Emperor 
(die kaiserhse^ die schreckliche Zeit),'' as it is still called. Partly 
to revenge himself for the indignity put upon him by ambitious 
Henry VI., whose talk about " world power " reads curiously 
like certain utterances familiar to us in the present day, and 
who, as a step towards such " world power," made Richard 
Goeiu" de Lion swear fealty to him under duress, it was that 
Coeur de Lion in 1198 carried, muUd pecunid, as Roger de 
Hoveden has it, muneribus et xeniis suis, as Ralph of Coggeshall 
confirms, the election of his nephew Otho the Guelph — that 
is, the declared ally of the Pope — as German Emperor, against 
the popular candidate, Philip of Swabia, a scion of the best- 
loved of old German dynasties, that of the Hohenstaufens. 
Thus began the poUtical disintegration of Germany. And our 
Henry III. made matters worse by placing Richard of Corn- 
wall, once more by not quite straightforward means, upon the 
imperial throne. After that Spaniards and Frenchmen rushed 
in to compete for the crown. For a long time Germany lay 
at the mercy of foreigners, who, sparing their own territory, 
used it very freely as a convenient battle-ground or as welcome 
spoil to fatten on. As a matter of course France was in this 
respect the greatest sinner. We ourselves have, since the days 
of Richard of Cornwall, a perfectly clear conscience in the 
matter. But after the great victories of 1870 and 1871 it was 
thought beneath the dignity of mighty Germany any longer to 


make complaint of past encroachments by her now humbled 
neighbour, up to then the declared Erbfeind (hereditary enemy). 
Some Erbfeind, it appears, there must be. Austria had, like 
France, been humbled. Russia, although every German 
realises that it is with that Power above all that serious troubles 
are likely to arise, must, for political purposes, be conciliated. 
Consequently no possible Erbfeind remained worth quarrelling 
with except ourselves. What the Germans chose to forget in 
connection with all this matter is that the foreigners, who, as 
they complain, so long held sway over them, did not come 
unasked. It was the German archbishop-electors who invited 
Otho of Poitou, it was German Maurice who gave the three 
western bishoprics away to Henry II. of France, and so estab- 
lished French suzerainty. It was German princes, ambitious 
of being " kings," who welcomed Napoleon, who gave them the 
coveted crowns. And it was the Germans' own studied 
worship of everything foreign in the time when omne eocterum 
stood pro magnificOy their Josephus-like adulation of their 
foreign masters triumphing over themselves, which prolonged 
foreign domination. Whatever genuine patriots like the Great 
Elector might do, importuning Germans to '' remember that 
they were Germans," many of them actually scorned to be 
thought so. Their princes rendered willing obeisance to 
French kings. They adopted French as the official language 
at their Coiurts. They aped French Court manners. The 
humbler people loved to masquerade as foreigners, it might be 
as French, it might be as " Sommerenglander." They gallicised 
their manners, and gallicised their speech. The Germans' 
worst foes in this matter were those of their own household. 

But there has been a patriotic awakening, which we, cer- 
tainly, are the last to resent. Germans, become powerful, 
carry their heads high, and show themselves as demonstratively 
German as Louis I. of Bavaria and his friends affectedly did 
in old-£B.shioned days when they prided themselves on being 
" teutsch." They have their visiting cards printed in imread- 
able German characters. After 1871» from pure patriotism. 

No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 ■ 


they gloried in uncouth fashions in the matter of clothes and 
of the most oddly shaped hats. And, like Clovis, they now 
"bum what they used to worship," and they put the blame 
and odium attaching to past worship upon those upon whom 
as a matter of fact it was pressed. Though in the matter of 
dress, of domestic arrangements, of " tubbing," of feeding, of 
clubs and messes, and of those thousand and one little things 
which stand to us for evidences of modem civilisation, they 
freely adopt more specifically our British habits and practices, 
they profess to scorn whatever is foreign, and delight in paying 
out the present generation of foreigners for the wrong supposed 
to have been done by their ancestors. 

However, aU this would have been of only small and purely 
ephemeral efiect had there not been a deeper and more serious 
cause to alter the current of public sentiment and turn past 
love into hatred. Like the " Boxer " movement, the present 
Anglophobia is distinctly " a product of official inspiration." 

The German people, it ought to be remembered, have 
long been every bit as much in favour of national union as was 
its reputed founder, Prince Bismarck — indeed, very much more 
so, though aiming at it by a different road. For in the sixties, 
the time that we are now dealing with, he and his Government 
used their power directly to thwart and repress unionist aspira- 
tions, and actually to persecute those who gave expression to 
them. The l^ait of union and constitutional government had in 
1818 been held out to Germans as an inducement to make them 
take up arms against their French masters. And they accepted 
those promises as genuine. In 1848 and 1849 they fought for 
those promised boons, which were still being withheld, and in 
the brief moment of their apparent triumph they went so far 
as to offer to the King of Prussia the crown of a constitutional 
empire to be then formed. He would not accept it on such 
terms. In the opinion of his successor he showed weakness in 
dealing with the revolution, which in consequence secured the 
Prussians some liberties. But a crown offered by the people 
he would not have. All the Prussian Government s ideas in 


aiming at the restoration of German unity and greatness 
pointed in a different direction. The Great Elector had 
wiited the scattered fragments of his hereditary dominions into 
a powerful and homogeneous State by means of a strong grasp 
of his sceptre, and the suppression of feudal and municipal 
liberties. A strong central government, not constitutional 
evolution, was the main pillar of his " Staatsidee," his " idea of 
a State," which all his successors have accepted as a sacred 
bequest, none more thoroughly so than William I. and his 
minister Bismarck. Accordingly, about the sixties Crown and 
people were essentially at variance in their aim. The people 
looked, so to put it, for Victorian institutions to follow those 
of the Stuarts, for a diminution of prerogative, an increase of 
popular power. Their hope was set upon English institutions, 
and such they demanded. English institutions, however, were 
very gall and wormwood to the king and to his minister. 
They had a grudge notched up against free Albion already. 
Grateful as King William might be for the protection given to 
him by England when his future subjects forced him to fly his 
own country, his ministers could not forget that we had at the 
same time readily afforded sanctuary to their intended victims, 
the leaders of the revolution, and to all sorts of political heretics 
of that restiess period. 

Seeing what German government is in these days of 
reaction, it is difficult to realise what Prussia was in the period 
spoken of, the early sixties, when, be it remembered, a recent 
royal marriage had brought the recollection of things English 
very near to German constitutionalists. Prussia was then pro- 
nouncedly Liberal, it sent a strong Liberal majority to Parlia- 
ment, ably led, and sufficientiy powerful openly to defy the 
Cabinet and the Crown. So great was the power of these 
Liberals, when refusing to listen to King William's military 
proposals, that their Sovereign, in abject despair, resolved to 

Under such circumstances, when assumed necessity com- 
pelled the Crown to govern the country for a time in direct 


defiance of the law, the perpetual harping upon British methods 
as desirable models must needs exasperate Herr von Bismarck. 
He was about, without the sanction of Parliament, to double 
the Prussian army and to push home all the rigours of the 
conscription. Such constitutional and specifically pro-British 
ideas as were popularly indulged in must accordingly, he 
thought, be mercilessly knocked out of people's heads. 
And knocked out they were, to our cost, most effectively, as it 
now turns out, and as could only be done in a country in 
which the power of influencing school, church, universities, and, 
through the official and military classes and higher society, the 
whole of public opinion, invests the Crown with irresistible force. 
By means of repression, prosecutions, and the striking effects 
of a brilliantiy successful military policy, the Liberal party, 
dominant forty years ago, was rapidly crushed out of existence, 
not to return to anything like life ev^i in the present day, 
when it is represented only by a handful of politicians dissent- 
ing among themselves. The whilom detested militarism has 
become the people's idol, and has triumphed to this point, that 
men of great attainments in science, literature, trade, or in- 
dustry, glory, not in possessing such attainments, but in being 
majors or captains of the reserve. 

The example of England must not now any longer be 
quoted. To discredit the typical home of the constitutionalism 
which German ministers will not have, the history of that 
country has been deliberately falsified, its army has been 
calumniated, its victories have been blotted out. Our army 
more particularly has suffered severely at the hands of foreign 
detractors — so severely that people in Germany now laugh at 
the very idea of our having an army and having obtained 
victories in the field. The laurels that Britons and Germans 
honourably gained in friendly alliance are carried exclusively to 
the account of the latter. It is instructive under this aspect 
to compare the works of German historians written before 
and after the Bismarckian era, say, Dahlmann, Raumer, or 
Grervinus, and modem Treitschke. For the systematic 


paragement of our *' mercenary " army — ^so much remarked 
upon in our Press during the Transvaal War, but a matter of 
much older standing — ^there was, of course, very good reason. 
Germans must be taught to believe in their own military 
institutions as the only institutions possible consistently with 
success, and more particularly in the absolute necessity, nay, 
the merit and distinction, of being under conscription. Accor- 
dingly, our " mercenary " soldiers are represented as inefficient, 
fighting only for wages, like the mediaeval German lansquenets 
and retires, " brutal " {roh has long been the favourite word). 
Our officers are supposed to be mere idle dandies. The popular 
historian, Treitschke, whose word is taken for gospel, wiU not 
aUow even Wellington to have been a great general — ^anything 
more than a moderately good officer who managed to achieve 
some minor successes. Our boasted Parliamentary institutions, 
self-government, and individual self-reliance have been made to 
fare in much the same way, as gross caricatinres, in the country 
in which patriotism demands that every one should believe 
implicitly in the German methods of constant and universal 
government interference, keeping the people in perpetual 

The German people have accepted all this new teaching. 
It took some time to din it into them, but it has been so dinned, 
and, by dint of dinning, it has for the time sunk deep into the 
German mind. It is assumed now that we are habitually 
unfair, self-seeking, and scheming, and indulging in crooked 
ways, that the success of our institutions is a lie, that nearly 
everjrthing English is, if not downright bad, yet at any rate 
quite unsuited to Grerman circumstances, and is to be belittled 
accordingly. And when we now complain of German methods 
or manners, brusquerie and the like, the habitual answer given 
by people who have not yet become well seasoned in the con- 
sciousness of their own greatness is, " That is your envy " {Das 
ist der Neid). For an advance so great as Germany has made 
is not believed to meet with due justice unless it provokes 


The question which we shall have to put to ourselves is 
this : Is this condition of things likely to last ? There seems 
no reason to apprehend it. Prejudice and iU-wiU have become 
rather firmly rooted in German minds. It will take some 
time to eradicate them. But they are not indigenous to the 
soil. And as special influences have produced them, other 
more kindly influences, and, above all things, time, may be 
counted upon to remove them. After all, our interests, even 
where we are competitors, run in the main on common lines. 
And — among Teutons, at any rate — ^interests are sure to prove 
more powerful than sentiment We must not make too much 
of that common descent which is sometimes spoken of as a 
natinral bond, seeing that on both sides there has been a 
considerable infusion of foreign blood, more particularly in the 
present Germans*, who have absorbed the whole of one of the 
three great branches of the Slav family, that is, the Polabians, 
and a considerable portion of another branch, the Poles — ^not, 
of course, without becoming somewhat assimilated in their 
national character to those with whom they have become ftised. 
But our interests are in the main identical, they were never 
more so than now, when the very rivalry which we complain 
of shows that Germany has, like ourselves, become a commer- 
cial and industrial Power, therefore a Power whose " greatest 
interest is peace," in striking contrast with some of its neigh- 
bours. To emphasise our community of interests, which must 
in the end assert its influence, conflicts of interest keep 
announcing themselves as approaching in other quarters. 
Germany would rather that we tackled Russia, in her interest, 
to save her the trouble and produce the same effect During 
the last Russo-Turkish War the evidence of this was par- 
ticularly observable. But in any case, though the German 
Press observes a discreet silence on the point, people in 
Germany know well and admit freely at home that trouble 
is brewing in that quarter and will have to be faced some day. 
The tables will then be turned in the matter of German 
sympathies. Germans had not yet ceased crying out against 


British ''land hunger'' in the Transvaal and clamouring for 
Grerman interference to withstand it, when Dr. Delbriick, not 
an Anglophil, reminded them, in his Preussische JahrbUcher^ 
that before very long they might be praying that Lord Roberts' 
army, actually the only really " mobile " in the world, might 
be spared to protect European, and therefore German, interests, 
as it alone could do, in China, against Russia. It may be held 
sound policy to raise the value of German co-operation by 
creating an appearance of its improbability, but it is not likely 
that things will ever be pushed beyond a certain tolerable 
point And we may rely upon it that public opinion, which in 
Gennany is very plastic, will in future be judiciously " held in 

Meanwhile the methods so long employed against us have, 
as Germans themselves remark, come to defeat themselves, 
and are becoming played out. On the face of it it cannot be 
true, as is nevertheless again and again asserted, almost in the 
same breath, that our power is " dangerously excessive " and 
that we have dropped to the position of ** a second Holland," 
showing a bold face but internally worn out The edge of 
such weapons naturally wears off with too frequent use. 
Those favourite predictions of our impending humiliation have 
proved particularly unfortunate, as, once more. Dr. Delbriick 
bids his countrymen observe. We seem, so he says, invari- 
ably to rise stronger from the crisis to which Germans are 
taught to look for our discomfiture. So it was in the case of 
Fashoda. So it is in the case of the Transvaal. Though we 
are represented as grasping and intolerant, habitually showing 
unfriendliness to Germans, those Germans who come among 
us — and their number is large — ^know that absolutely the 
reverse is the case. And from them others learn it, more 
especially as points of contact among us grow more numerous. 
The very Germans who rail most against us in the matter 
of the Transvaal War are among the first to admit that in 
respect of material results they have reason to look for very 
substantial gain to themselves as resulting from our victory. 


They now openly speculate upon business to be carried on in 
British colonies as if those colonies were their own. You 
cannot long uphold the myth of British envy and unfriend- 
liness in the face of this. 

Moreover, those unkind stories circulated against us ^* with 
an object " have long since served their purpose. They are, 
even now, no longer put to use, as they once were, with a view 
to prejudicing Germans against British methods, as possible 
examples for themselves. The purpose which they are now 
intended to serve is purely to stimulate German emulation in 
commerce, and to put a new " piece " into the hands of the 
German Government wherewith to play its diplomatic game. 
That takes very much of the old sting out of those absiu*d 
tales. The example of British Constitutionalism has quite lost 
its charm. Germans have become thoroughly reconciled to 
those strong HohenzoUem methods which thirty-five and forty 
years ago they viewed with disgust and repulsion. They honestly 
consider them better suited than ours to their own case, and 
look upon a powerful, strongly centralised Government, with 
an army of brass-buttoned men to do for the people, and make 
them do, what we would rather do for ourselves, as a source of 
national strength, and would not for a minute go away from 
it for other methods. The argument that they should do as 
we have done in matters political, in order that they might 
become great like ourselves in matters economic, is no longer 
applicable, seeing that their own method has advanced their 
prosperity to such a degree as to bring them withm a short 
thirty years into keen and dangerous competition with our- 
selves. To do them justice, HohenzoUem ideas of absolute 
government are very different indeed from Bourbon and Stuart 
ideas. That is the explanation of their success. If Hohen- 
zoUerns ask for autocratic power and ready service, on the 
other hand they are themselves very "diligent about their 
business," and study to perform their part of the contract 
They are also in modem days manifestly judicious in their use 
of their power, giving way with truly Elizabethan discernment 


when public pressure becomes troublesome. They know that 
they will not suffer in the end. When public clamour becomes 
pressing they sacrifice a minister — ^whom they place in some 
other comfortable berth. If the vote for a largely increased 
navy is not conceded in one year, they make a merit of with- 
drawing it, knowing very well that, for the very reason of 
their giving way once, it will be all the more willingly granted 
in the next session. That being so, Germans have ceased to 
see anything derogatory to individual freedom in the centralisa- 
tion of power. Where there is no party government, govern- 
ment becomes a scientific or expert calling which may, it is 
thought, be left to the emperor and his ministers with as little 
hesitation as the command of a ship is left absolutely to the 
captain. That principle is scarcely likely to hold good under 
all future developments. But for the time nobody so much 
as questions it. This triumph obtained, and the powerful wave 
of popular aspirations repelled which set in against the Govern- 
ment in the days of Waldeck and Virchow, there is no object 
left for making us a bugbear to the German people. Rather 
are we likely to become popular once more, as a usefrd example 
to hold up for imitation, now the foe to be contended with at 
home is no longer quasi-English Liberalism, but Socialism, 
which runs counter to all our traditions. 

So the fire of hostility may be expected to bum itself out. 
The cries of " Hosannal" and " Crucify T' are apt to succeed one 
another very rapidly in the clamour of nations. Circumstances 
have conspired to keep the two countries, curiously alike in 
habits, thoughts and interests, apart in sentiment for an 
unusually long time. It would be strange if that were to 
continue very much longer. The present violent ebullition of 
pro-Boerism, more particularly, which so seriously irritates some 
of us, is not likely to outlive the war. It is, on the face of it, 
artificial and opposed to natiu*e and reason. Indeed, from 
articles and letters now appearing in German newspapers it 
seems evident that the German Titaida has already become 
rather painfully conscious of the fact that she has, in an hour 


of feva^d frenzy, rather ridiculously thrown away her affections 
upon a ** translated " Bottom. Quite evidently, also, no nation 
expects to reap a richer harvest of gain out of British rule in 
the Transvaal than the German — and the realisation of that 
hope, well-founded as it is, may be counted upon to cover a 
multitude of sentimental grievances. Finally, demonstratively 
as German speakers and writers are pleased to parade their 
''fraternal" devotion for a race which is in truth far more 
nearly related to ourselves, nobody knows better than the 
Germans, and the people of Dutch blood to whom they address 
themselves, how utterly hollow are all these specious protes- 
tations, seeing that there is no country of which the Dutch at 
home are more genuinely afraid, and accordingly more 
naturally suspicious, than Germany, which is supposed to have 
an eye persistently on the Netherlands seaboard. Accordingly, 
the Transvaal war over, German Boer sympathies are pretty 
certain to cool, and all the fire and fury now indulged in against 
ourselves is likely to come to an end without so much as leaving 
an enduring sting behind. Germans are, after all, like most 
other people. They may take up a hostile cry for a season to 
serve their own purpose, but that is rather in selfishness, 
coupled with a little vanity, than in malice. And their own 
interests, which may be trusted in the long run to determine 
their conduct, cannot require that they should bring them- 
selves to believe persistently a pure mjiii against us and carry 
on an unreasonable campaign of public opinion, to the prejudice, 
ultimately — as it must be, seeing how necessary we are to one 
another — of themselves. 

Henry W. Wolfp. 


XT is agreed on aU hands that as soon as the war in South 
X Africa is at last finished, one of our earliest tasks will be 
to determine on what lines the native coloured population is to 
be governed. Our original quarrel with the Dutch colonists, 
who founded the two states we have been engaged for many 
months and at a terrible cost of lives and treasure in subduing, 
was about their enslavement of the indigenous races. It has 
remained our deepest and most permanent source of antagonism 
with their descendants. In the Transvaal the policy of the 
founders has been perpetuated by the Government; and the 
general conduct at least of the Boers in the sister-state has 
been the same. British colonists have too often shared the 
guilt of the Boers. The settled policy of the Imperial and 
Colonial Governments, however, has been different for the 
greater part of the century. We enfranchised the slaves. 
We have sought to put an end to the remorseless hostilities 
which were the only alternative to slavery. We have admitted 
men to the rights of citizenship without distinction of colour. 
Moreover, by the Convention of 1881, when after our tempo- 
rary occupation we gave back a limited independence to the 
Transvaal, we constituted ourselves the protectors of the 
natives. Though we never succeeded — ^indeed, because we 
never succeeded — ^in performing the duties which that stipula- 
tion laid upon us while the Boer Government existed, now that 


it is at an end we are bound by every moral, as well as every 
political, consideration to enforce their fair treatment as human 
beings, and not Schepsels — ^mere brutes. 

The problem is itself a difficult one ; and it is complicated 
by the political events of the past five and twenty years, and 
still more by the discoveries of mineral wealth in the Transvaal, 
the Orange River Colony and the adjacent districts already 
under British control It is claimed that native labour is 
essential for the working of the mines. Natives are actually 
employed under conditions which are the subject of much 
controversy. Legislation in reference to this employment 
cannot be postponed. It will be found to raise the entire 
question, both of the relations of the coloured to the white 
population, and of the relations of the members of the coloured 
population among themselves. For the contact with civilisa- 
tion which has been slowly breaking up their tribal organisation 
assumes in this emplojmient one of its most acute forms, 
affecting a larger number of individuals than the ordinary 
intercourse with settlers, traders or government officials, and 
affecting them more permanently. Thus the problem is not 
only a difiicult one ; it is an important one. 

It is important, too, for another reason. Some Englishmen 
call the natives of India ** niggers," with an emphatic adjective 
often prefixed. Persons of this kind, with the same exquisite 
accuracy and the same just sense of superiority, call the races 
of South Africa '' niggers " also. Such persons are neither wiser 
nor better bred than the Boers who habitually refer to the 
natives as " black cattle " or " black trash." The fact is that 
the natives are neither Negroes nor black. The Aborigines 
appear to have been Bushmen, who are of a dingy yeUow 
colour. These have been pressed southwards and broken up 
into scattered communities by invading peoples of Bantu stock. 
The Hottentots are beUeved to be of mixed Bushmen and 
Bantu descent. In physical characteristics they resemble the 
Bushmen ; and they speak a tongue Uke theirs full of clicks, 
and like theirs in grammatical construction. To the similarity 


of grammatical construction, however, there is one important 
qualification. The Bushman language is of that primitive type 
which has no genders, while the Hottentot language is sex- 
denoting. The Bantus of eastern and central South Afiica 
are generaUy divided into two great peoples known generically 
as the Bechuana and the Zulus. To these two peoples (I do 
not attempt here an enumeration of the various tribes) the 
native inhabitants of the Transvaal and the Orange River 
Colony chiefly belong, though there are isolated commimities 
of Bushmen. Soft is their speech and pleasant to the ear, full 
of vowels and devoid of the clicks and harshness of the 
Bushman dialects. Though they are not Negroes, they are 
prolific, and thrive, as the N^roes too, thrive in the presence of 
civilisation. Hence they are likely to remain a permanent 
element of the population, and an increasing rather than a 
diminishing element. The Bushmen are hunters at a relatively 
low level of savagery, but furnished with the bow and possessed 
of considerable artistic power. Far inferior to them in the 
latter respect, the Bantu tribes are otherwise much further 
advanced. They are pastoral and warlike peoples, living under 
the government of chiefs in communities organised on a 
patriarchal basis. 

Of these indigenous populations no accurate census has 
ever been taken. Including Swaziland, 1,000,000 would pro- 
bably be a liberal estimate of their number before the war. It 
cannot be put lower than three quarters of a million ; and at 
this figure they outnumber the white population by at least 
three to one. Five-sixths of them inhabit the Transvaal, where 
their proportion to the whites is believed to be fully five to one. 
A majority so overwhelming might in easily conceivable cir- 
cimistances become a source of serious danger to the colonists. 
Even if the revival of commercial prosperity lead to a great 
increase of immigration, still for some time to come the indigenes 
are likely to retain a numerical preponderance which must be 
a source of anxiety to the Government 

No small share of this anxiety is contributed by the preva- 


lence of their anci^it religion, institutions, and customs. 
During the greater part of the century missionary enterprise 
has been directed to them with more or less result. Statistics 
are as hard to get on this subject as on that of the total 
population. Basutoland is outside the area of the new colonies. 
There, in a country hardly so large as Belgium, a devoted 
French Protestant Mission has laboiu^ed for seventy years. 
For the last twenty years, or thereabouts, it has laboured in 
peace and prosperity under the British Protectorate. Its 
results, therefore, may be expected to compare favourably with 
those of missions in the Orange River Colony and the Trans- 
vaal, where, especially in the latter, the hostility of the white 
people and their government has greatly hindered the work. 
Yet even in Basutoland one of the missionaries has recently 
described the native Christians as forming only '^ une infime 
minority." ^ In these circumstances it may be safely assumed 
that the vast majority of natives in the two new colonies are 
still heathen and untouched by any truly civilising influences. 

The first condition for solving the problem is knowledge — 
an accurate knowledge of the native, his institutions, his 
customs, his modes of thought, his superstitions. We need 
have no fear that we shall not find the men to rule, if we can 
provide them with that. But that is exactly what we have not 
yet got. Though the country has been known more or less to 
Englishmen for at least three quarters of a century, though the 
Orange River Colony has been known intimately for half a 
century and the Transvaal for more than twenty years, of the 
indigenous population we know very little. Of the various 
classes — hunters, missionaries, traders, mining adventurers — 
that have either dwelt or sojourned in the land, none save 
the missionaries have had any real interest in the natives. 
Consequently few or none have recorded anything of value 
concerning them. Even the records by missionaries have been 
for the most part scrappy, and for practical purposes, and still 
more in regard to scientific accuracy, not to be implicitly 

^ CbxiBto\,AuSudderAfrique,f.l2S. 


trusted. The early missionaries found unexpected difficulties 
in reaching the savage mind. It was not merely the difference 
of language ; that, wide as it is, they had no doubt anticipated. 
What they did not anticipate was the imperfect development 
of mental conditions which they foimd. It not merely pre- 
vented the savage from comprehending the missionary's 
message; it equally prevented the missionary frt>m under- 
standing those whom he had set out to teach. Besides, the 
science of anthropology had not yet come to birth, and what 
the missionary learnt of the native manners and customs he 
did not think it becoming to repeat in books written for the 
British public. Moffat says expressly that a description of 
these things "would be neither very instructive nor very 
edifying.*'^ No more was, therefore, said or written about 
them than was necessary for the elucidation of the missionary 
narratives on the platform or in books. 

This attitude, however easy to explain, is, in the interests 
alike of science and of government, much to be deplored. 
Later missionaries, though not often interested from an 
anthropological standpoint, have indeed given us somewhat 
more information. But what they have given is not always 
exact At best it is incomplete, and requires to be supple- 
mented in almost every direction. Of professedly scientific 
writers I need mention only the German, Fritsch, whose work 
on the natives of South Africa, published at Breslau in 1872, 
covered a large field of observation. But, because it covered 
so large a field, it is wanting in detail ; and detail is just what 
we need. It was also an expensive work ; it is now out of 
print and not easily accessible. 

I must not omit one other reason for our defective know- 
ledge of the customs and institutions of the coloured peoples of 
these two provinces, namely, that until the country was settled 
by the Boers there was a state of intermittent warfare, which 
frequently resulted in the dispersal and even the extermination 
of whole tribes. The conquering hordes had not necessarily 

1 Mo&t, ''Mifliioiuuy Laboon*' (Landon, 184S), p. 249. 


the same organisation and customs as those which they sup- 
planted. Though no doubt there is a general similarity in 
these respects among most of the South African peoples, there 
are also well-marked distinctions. In view of the changes 
consequent on their ferocious wars, therefore, even in the cases 
when the missionaries —at all events, the early missionaries — 
condescended to speak of native customs, we cannot assume 
that the same customs are still rife where they found them. 

Of the differences of organisation and customs just referred 
to, some are racial, others tribal, some descend from an 
immemorial past, while others are modem. A few illustrations 
of these differences may be interesting from more than one 
point of view. And inasmuch as our information is so limited 
with regard to the peoples actually occup3n[ng the Transvaal 
and the Orange River Colony, most of my examples must be 
drawn from cognate tribes in the older colonies and 

I must be content with a passing allusion to one of the 
most obvious divergencies of custom — ^that in the authority of 
the chiefs. It is matter of common knowledge that their 
authority varies from almost absolute power among certun 
Zulu tribes to a vanishing point among Bushmen. Setting 
aside the case of the Bushmen as probably due to imperfect 
development of their social organisation, the conditions of this 
variation are stiU obscure and well worth study. We cannot 
attempt to govern the natives without taking the power and 
position of the chiefs into account. It will not be enough to 
consult merely their personal susceptibility. The circumstances 
of each tribe must be considered, and its law ascertained and 
recorded for future reference, in case of difficulty with the 
existing chief or his successors. 

Passing from government to domestic life, take tiie punish- 
ment of theft. In the Umzimkulu district " theft is punishable 
by fine and restitution, unless in aggravated cases, when it is 
punished by death." ^ Among the Gaikas tiie utmost punish- 

^ " Cape Conun. Rep./' App., p. 197. 


ment is ** eating up " — ^that is, confiscation of all the offender's 
property by the chief — ^and then only when the offence has 
been committed against the chief himself. Theft from any 
one else ** is punished by fine amounting from five to ten head 
of cattle for one, when the stolen property is not recovered ; 
when recovered, a lesser fine is imposed/' In all cases, 
however, the fine is graduated according to the rank of the 
person injured.^ The Tambookies punish the stealing of live 
stock by " a fine of ten for one ; but," we are told, " the ftiU 
amount of this fine is seldom enforced in the present day, 
especially when the number stolen is more than one or two 
head. If the property be recovered umnjured, no fine is paid ; 
and if part of the property is restored uninjured, the thief is 
only fined for the missing or injured part. In cases of petty 
thefts, the fines inflicted are very insignificant, and seldom 
amount to more than the value of the articles stolen.^ The 
Bechuana of the greater part of the area of our new colonies 
are frilly as lenient, unless the thief be a slave, or a very 
hardened sinner without means of reparation. In general, the 
punishment was " to restore twofold or fourfold, different tribes 
giving different statements as to what their law is, or rather was, 
on this subject. The practice, now all but universal in 
Bechuanaland, is simple restitution of what was stolen." Slaves 
or persons without means receive corporal punishment, and 
hardened offenders are maimed.^ The crime of theft thus 
furnishes examples not only of wide differences in the law, but 
also of its uncertainty. 

Seduction is another subject viewed very differently by 
different tribes. Among some, such as the Tambookies (a 
tribe of Kaffirs) and the Baronga of Delagoa Bay (a tribe of 
Zulus), so far is it from being punishable that it is not even 

^ Brownlee, in Macleau^ ''Kftfir Laws and Customs/' p. 112; cf, ''Cape 
Comm. Rep./' App. C, p. 151. 

' J. C. Warner^ Tambookie agents in Maclean, p. 65. 

* Mackenzie, '' Ten Years North of the Orange River/' p. 375. The same, 
in '' Cape Comm. Rep./' App. C, p. 233. 

No. 7. III. 1.— Apbil 1901 9 


considered disgraceful to either party; rather it is a most 
ordinary occurrence.^ The Gaikas on the other hand inflict on 
the man, for the benefit of the girl's parents, a fine of three 
or four head of cattle, or more if pr^nancy ensue«^ The 
Bechuana of the interior, including our new possessions, for 
the most part take the same view. Formerly, indeed, it is said 
that so highly was the afiront resented that the girl's father 
would sometimes spear her.^ Among the Basuto likewise the 
man is fined ; but if he choose to marry the girl the fine is 
small.^ The Amaxosa fine the guilty man the whole of his 
own stock and that of his relatives in the same kraal, unless he 
marry the girl, in which case only so much is retained by the 
offended parents as suffices for the bride-price.^ 

The laws relating to marriage and inheritance vary in many 
points. A few examples only can be given, and they must for 
want of space be confined to the former. It may be a hardship 
that a man may not marry his grandmother, but the South 
African native has to put up with hardships much heavier; 
for, generally speaking, all blood-relationship Vhich is recog- 
nised, however distant it may be, is an absolute bar to marriage. 
If such a marriage take place by any chance among the Gaikas, 
it is dissolved and a very heavy penalty inflicted on the man.® 
But among the Tambookies it is merely a question how large 
a bride-price the man is willing to pay for a wife who is related 
to him by blood.^ On the other hand, hardly any previous 
relationship by marriage is a bar. The Fingoes and some 
other tribes are said to recognise the marriage of a man to his 
uncle's widow ; and it seems admitted that a younger brother's 
marriage to his elder brother's widow is usually considered 
correct. The Amaxosa, however, disallow it, though I infer 

1 Warner^ in Maclean^ p. 63 ; Junod, Let Ba-ronga, p. S9. 

^ Brownlee, in Maclean, p. 1 12. 

< Mackenzie, in '' Cape Comm. Rep.," App. C.^ p. 233. 

* " Cape Comm. Rep.," App. B., p. 23. 

» lUd, p. 29. But cf. App. C, p. 167. 

^ Brownlee, in Maclean, p. 115. 7 Warner, in Maclean^ p. 63. 


that they would not object to the miMriage of an elder brother 
with his younger brother's widow.^ Some tribes, the Tambookies 
for instance, permit a man to be married to two sisters, both 
living ; others require, like the Hebrews, that one sister shall be 
dead before the other is married to the same husband.^ 

Most, if not all, of the tribes are polygamous. Polygamy 
renders family arrangements very complex ; and some of the 
most difficult questions that come before the courts, whether 
native or colonial, are questions of inheritance. In some 
districts these cases are few. In others they are very frequent 
Hitherto they have been unknown in the Boer parts of the 
Transvaal, for the simple reason that, among its other iniquities, 
the Transvaal has refused to recognise any marriages of 
coloured persons.^ All trustworthy information, therefore, 
as to the difficult subject of inheritance among the tribes of 
the Transvaal is wanting. It may be that the native law is 
not in every case so complicated as among the Cattle Damaras, 
or Ovaherero, who occupy a portion of the western side of the 
continent. A 'missionary, who was weU acquainted vntix this 
tribe, told Dr. Hahn "he believed they themselves had no 
very clear ideas about it."^ At all events the missionary had 
not — ^an apt illustration of the difficulty experienced by 
Europeans in penetrating the mysteries of native thought and 

It is easy to understand that the large number of tribes 
which occupy veldt and mountain in South AMca would 
furnish an interminable series of diffisrences of custom. The 
foregoing examples have been taken without any intention to 
select the most striking or the most important But an 

^ Rev. H. Dugmore, in Maclean^ p. l63. 

« Warner, Dujpiore, he. cil.; J. Knox Bokwe, in "Cape Comm. Rep.," 
App., p. S8. 

* In January 1899 a law was passed recognising native marriages, but onlj 
on terms with which it was practically impassible to eomply. 

* Cf. " Cape Comm. Rep.," App., pp. 46, «8«, with Md. p. 877, and App., 
pp. 76, 25$. 


administrator, I venture to think, will regard none of them 
with indifference. Cases of theft often come before the courts, 
for some peoples are inveterate thieves. It cannot be said to 
be a matter of no concern whether the crime be punishable by 
death or the terrible penalty of " eating up," or by a trumpery 
fine hardly or not at all exceeding the value of the stolen 
property. Disputes about inheritance are a fruitful cause of 
quarrels which endanger the peace. While questions relating 
to marriage and the sexual relations are of serious moment, if 
only because status and inheritance depend on these things. 
Indeed, we could only afford to treat the native customs and 
institutions with indifference, on the supposition that we 
intended to continue the Boer policy of oppression. The 
supposition, as I have shown, is impossible, alike on moral and 
political grounds. Philanthropic persons often imagine that it 
is quite enough for us to have good intentions. Armed with 
these, they think, we may safely rule the natives as benevolent 
despots according to our own ideas, no matter what theirs are. 
There could not be a greater mistake. With the best inten- 
tions we have constantly blundered in more than one quarter 
of the world into wrong, and even into unwitting cruelty, 
solely because of our ignorance of savage customs, institutions, 
and superstitions. The same conduct in our new colonies will 
meet with the same result, and ultimately lead us into fresh 

Twenty years ago the Cape Gk)vemment, which had already 
had a considerable experience of the natives, came to the 
conclusion that it ought at last, both for legislative and 
administrative purposes, to learn something seriously and 
accurately about their customs. A Commission was accord- 
ingly appointed to make inquiries. The Report of that 
Commission, presented to the Cape Parliament in January 
1888, is perhaps the most valuable document we possess upon 
the coloured races of South Africa. A large number of 
witnesses, both white and black, were examined. Codes of 
questions were drawn up and submitted to persons who were 


qualified, by lengthened residence among the natives and 
acquaintance with the subject, to give information and express 
opinions upon the native laws and customs and the desirability 
of legislation. The result is that we can speak with some 
confidence about the indigenous peoples of Cape Colony ; we 
really do know what their marriage laws and land tenure are, 
and something of their criminal law and other branches of their 
jurisprudence. This is no small gain, and is in strong contrast 
with the fragmentary, vague and slipshod condition of our 
knowledge of the tribes to the north, over many of which we 
have by the event of the war extended our rule. 

Two great facts demonstrated by the Commission would 
readily have been presumed by any one famiUar with savages 
and savage life. The first is the existence of the multitudinous 
variations of law and custom on which I have already dwelt. 
On this point all that I desire to add is that we have no reason 
to think that there are fewer or less important variations among 
the tribes of the new colonies. What those variations may be 
we have yet to ascertain. 

The other great fact was the extraordinary difficulty 
experienced by Europeans who are not trained anthropologists 
in understanding the native customs and modes of thought. 
Of this the Damara law of inheritance, to which I have already 
referred, is an example. Still more glaring was one which 
occupies a considerable space ui the discussions of the Com-^ 
mission. Among the objects specially marked out for 
investigation was the marriage law. In nearly all the tribes a 
necessary incident of the most honourable form of marriage is 
the bride-price. The bridegroom, or some one on his behalf, 
bargains with the father of the bride for the delivery to him of 
a certain number of cattle, or occasionally of other goods, in 
exchange for the bride. The goods are not always actually 
delivered before the marriage ; but if not, the contract is a 
binding one, and they remain a debt due from the brid^^room 
or his family. These are the patent facts ; and the question to 
be determined was whether the transaction (which is called 


lobola or uktUobola) is a bargain and sale of the bride, and 
therefore according to our ideas immoral, or, if not, what it is. 

The most contradictory answers were given by missionaries, 
resident magistrates and other officials and persons familiar 
with the natives. But the general result of the inquiries by 
the Commission was to establish that, though there are 
elements of sale about the transaction, it is important in the 
present state of native civilisation to retain it, in the interest 
and for the benefit of the bride and her children. It is a safe- 
guard of her morals both before and after marriage. It 
imposes a liabifity on her father and all her relatives among 
whom he may (as he generally does) distribute the cattle paid 
for her, to maintain her and her children if they are in need, to 
protect her in person and property at her husband's kraal, and 
to listen to any appeal she may make against her husband and 
his family. This, in a polygamous community, is no unim- 
portant responsibility. It amounts to a substantial pledge for 
her good treatment. It is also a pledge to the husband for ha- 
good conduct, for if she misconduct herself he may be entitled 
tb a return of the whole or a part of the bride-price. 

Imp<»i;ant as this result was, the process by which it was 
reached was not less important. For it revealed a startlihg 
proportion of men of education, men experienced in native 
wajTs, teachers of religion and administrators of the law, misled 
by words or by abuses of the practice, or from prejudice or 
ignorance wholly incapable of penetrating below the surface of 
the custom to its real meaning and value. Some of them 
could not distinguish between the slavery and the tutelage of 
women, and wotdd have declared every Roman matron to be a 
slave. Stronger arguments for the necessity of anthropc^ogical 
teaching for our missionaries and our administrators may 
perhaps be adduced. They would have to be founded on 
instances where not merely injustice and misery, but bloodshed 
and war were the results of the prejudices or ignorance of pur 
officials. Unhappily there are too many examples of this in 
the history, even the recent history, of the British Empire. 


The instruction of our missionaries must be left to the religious 
societies which send them forth. But with respect to our 
administrators we have a national duty. They have too long 
been selected in a haphazard way, because they have been 
successful in other professions, or because they have had 
interest in high quarters; and they have been flung down 
untrained in the ways and thoughts of the people whom they 
have to manage, and among whom they have to administer 
justice. Sometimes of course the man appointed has risen, as 
a Briton does, to the emergency. Too often the results have 
been lamentable to all concerned, and we have been indebted 
to fortune rather than to skill and wisdom if serious conse- 
quences have been averted. It is high time we changed our 
methods. It is high time we sent out to the savage and 
barbarous races under our sway rulers who have been prepared 
for their career by a general training in anthropological science, 
as well as by a special study of the people they are intended to 

Meanwhile the example of the Cape Government points 
out unmistakably the first step to be taken in reference to the 
tribes of the new territories. Had the Cape Commission done 
no more than clear up the real character of the custom of 
hbolUf humanity would have owed it a debt of gratitude, for 
its labours would have been the means of preventing serious 
injustice to a large number of native women. Had it done no 
more than exhibit the misconceptions among white men who 
might be supposed to be better informed of the exact meaning 
and contents of native institutions, it would have taught us a 
valuable lesson. It did much more. It resulted in a valuable 
code of laws under which the Native Territories belonging to 
Cape Colony are administered. 

In view of the considerations already adduced and of the 
success attending the experiment in Cape Colony, the Anthro- 
pological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland and the 
Folklore Society lately presented to H. M. Secretary of State 
for the Colonies a joint Memorial, praying that as soon as the 


condition of the Transvaal and the Orange River Colony 
permitted, and prior to any legislation affecting the natives, a 
Commission should be appointed to inquire into the customs 
and institutions of the natives, and into the relations between 
the natives and the European settlers, with power to make 
recommendations for both legislative and administrative 

Neither of these purposes must be lost sight of. It may 
be admitted that in putting an end to the Boer oppression we 
must allow the natives to be governed by their own customs 
and traditions. If Europeans have such difficulty in under- 
standing these, is it any wonder that the natives should have 
a similar difficulty in understanding our laws and customs ? 
To impose on them laws they do not understand is obviously 
unjust, and must lead to dissatisfaction and unrest. As a 
missionary told the Cape Commission, ''They are much 
attached to their customs; or rather, I should say, their 
customs are a part of themselves ; they cannot imagine any 
others."^ Tolerant, however, as we may be, there will of 
course be customs we cannot away with. Such customis must 
be abolished, or at least modified. But the evidence obtained 
by the Cape Commission as to the custom of lobola shows that 
very careful inquiry will have to be made, lest we prohibit 
customs which are suited to the stage of civilisation the natives 
have attained, and which under proper safeguards may be 
unobjectionable or even positively advantageous. Nor must 
we be less solicitous to ascertain how to deal with such customs 
as we may determine to modify or abolish, so as to change 
them with the least disturbance of tribal conditions. You 
cannot civilise a savage race all at once. A veneer of civilisa- 
tion imposed from without remains a veneer and nothing more ; 
the smallest scratch upon the Russian discloses the Tartar 
beneath. Contact with civilisation may lead a savage to 
discard some of his customs. He will only discard those which 
are inconvenient to him. He will shed all such portions of his 

^ '* Cape Comm. Rep./' App., p. 186. 


ancient superstitions as are disagreeable. He will still keep 
everirthing he thinks may benefit him. In the same way he 
will imbibe from civilisation all the sweets and reject all the 
bitters as soon and as completely as he can. Small blame to 
him ; but the result is to make a being far more dangerous 
than a savage naked and unsophisticated ; for he is freed from 
the moral and legal restraints of his own religion and social 
state, without being subjected to ours. Civilisation is a slow 
and tedious process ; a process extending over generations, and 
demanding all the wisdom and statesmanship alike of oiu* 
missionaries and our rulers. To know exactly how and 
when to prohibit or modify objectionable customs is not the 
smallest of the demands made on that wisdom and that states- 

There is, moreover, one special reason for the appointment 
of a Commission ; the immediate necessity for considering the 
terms of the employment of native labour in the mines. It 
will prove a very thorny question, and one on which the advice 
of a competent and impartial Commission will be invaluable. 
It is of course comparatively easy to obtain evidence of the 
manner in which natives are actually employed, the terms on 
which they are engaged, the provision for their maintenance 
during their period of service, the enclosures in which they are 
kept, and the rules they are required to obey. We shall be 
compelled to go much farther than that. We must also 
acquaint ourselves with the conditions of native life, the 
manner in which employment at the mines afiects tribal 
organisation and tribal and individual morale^ and the views 
and wishes of experienced natives. These are things it will 
be practically impossible to ascertain, unless by the aid of ti 

^ A remarkable illustration of the difficulties which beset a civilised 
government in dealing with these South African peoples is afforded b j the 
evidence taken before the Native Commission issued by the Natal Government 
in 1881. No more instructive reading can be found, whether we regard the 
inherent difficulties of the question, or those created by the best-intentioned 
legislation without adequate knowledge. 


Commission ; and yet they are essential to the equitable solution 
of the problems of native labour. 

In thus trying briefly to present the case for inquiry by a 
Commission I have purposely dwelt on what I may call the 
secular side of native organisation and institutions, because it is 
likely to appeal to tiie practical sense of *' the man in the 
street "" ; and I hope what I have said will render clear the 
desirability of a systematic effort to collect the facts of native 
culture. The religious side, however, is not less important 
A savage acts almost as often from what we call superstitious 
motives as he does from such as are more obvious to us 
because more material. Religion is as deeply ingrained in 
savage as in civilised natures, perhaps more deeply. At all 
events it plays a larger part in savage life, because it has been 
less perfectly differentiated from secular concerns. Of fetishes 
in the strict sense of the term the South African native has 
none. But the rainmaker is powerful. The witch is the cause 
of deep-seated terror, and of crimes that are caused by terror. 
The process of " smelling-out " a witch was one of the subjects 
considered by the Cape Commission ; and it is one of the 
subjects which must be dealt with in any legislation afiecting 
the natives. Ancestor- worship leads to practices which require 
close scrutiny, since at least some of them mean cruelty to man 
or beast We have reason to remember the strength of reli- 
gious fanaticism in the neighbouring territory of Mashonaland. 

Missionaries have paid more attention to beliefs than to 
jurisprudence. Notably, Dr. Callaway has given us a precious 
though unfinished volume of Zulu religious texts. But what 
we know, whether from missionaries or from travellers, o(m- 
ceming the religious beliefs of the indigenes of our new 
colonies is as superficial and fragmentary as the rest of our 
information. It seems hardly possible, but it is the fact that 
to this day it is matter of dispute whether the Bechuana 
believe in anything which can be called a god. All the 
effective worship of most of the tribes known to us is addressed 
to the spirits of their ancestors* But it has been confidently 


asserted and as confidently denied that, in addition to these, 
they recognise the existence of a deity. And a few years since 
a German missionary published a statement in some detail to 
show that the Bechuana of the Transvaal, the Orange River 
Colony, and Basutoland were, after all, developed polytheists.^ 
I am not aware whether the statement has been confirmed by 
subsequent inquiries, or whether such inquiries have ever been 

Some of these matters may seem to be of scientific rather 
than practical interest. If the suggested Commission be 
granted, no doubt its inquiries will prove of much value to 
science — ^mainly of course to anthropological, but also to 
geographical and economic science. They can hardly avoid 
throwing light upon many questions relating to tribal organisa- 
tion, the development of civilisation, the influence of environ- 
ment and the arts of life, and so forth, still sub JtuKce among 
scientific men. For this purpose, as well as for the more 
immediate purposes of the Commission, it is to be hoped that 
some skilled anthropologists from this country would be among 
the members of the Commission. This request has indeed 
been made in the memorial. Compared with many foreign 
governments our own contributes in a paltry way to the 
advancement of science. Notably the German and the 
American Governments annually spend considerable sums on 
anthropological investigations. In the year 1898 the former 
spent no less than £25,000 in this way. It is no great credit 
to the richest nation in the world — the nation that has a 
greater interest in the results than all other European nations 
put together, because she rules over a greater variety of savage 
and barbarous peoples — ^to do nothing. Here is an opportunity 
incidentally and at small cost to obtain a trustworthy record of 
an early stage of culture, which is every day being pushed into 
remoter and remoter regions by the pressure of European 
civilisation, and which can never recur. In years to come such 
a record would, moreover, possess an historical interest second 

1 South African Folklore Journal, vol. i. (1879)^ p. 32. 


to none in Soutii Africa, as an account of the condition of the 
natives when they passed from the Boer domination to our 
own. It would be a standard for measiu*ement of the advan- 
tages conferred by British rule. 

For my own part, however, I am always loth to admit the 
opposition between matters of scientific and matters of practical 
interest. In common parlance it may be convenient to distin- 
guish them. But it has so often happened that recondite and 
apparently useless investigations have turned out to be of the 
greatest benefit to mankind, that we can no longer scorn any 
scientific problem on the ground that its solution would lead to 
no practical consequences. We may depend upon it that 
anthropology is no whit behind the other sciences in this 
respect It, too, has its message for the man of affairs, be he 
statesman, philanthropist, missionary, merchant, or manufac- 
turer, as well as for the student in the library or the museum. 

E. SmNEY Ha&tland. 


IN studying the characteristics of British genius, the first 
and most elementary question we have to settle is the 
distribution of British ability in the various parts of the United 
Kingdom. It is desirable, for instance, to determine what 
proportion of British genius has been produced, respectively, 
by England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. In so doing it is 
obvious that we shall not have classified our British men of 
genius strictly according to race — we shall not even have 
determined precisely the contribution of the so-called ** Celtic " 
elements to British genius — but we shall have taken an impor- 
tant and interesting first step. 

This is the question which, in the course of a somewhat 
elaborate study of the characteristics of British men of genius, 
founded mainly on the '* Dictionary of National Biography," 1 
have made an attempt to answer. I find that among the 
80,000 individuals included in this *' Dictionary," 902 stand out 
as of pre-eminent ability.^ It is with the origin, so far as 
it can be ascertained, of these 902 men and women of British 
race, who have chiefly built up English civilisation, that the 
present paper is concerned. 

^ It would be tedious to explain here the principles of selection bj which 
these 903 were obtained. For an account of this, and for the names themselves, 
I may refer to the first of the series of articles entitled ''A Study of British 
Genius/' now appearing in the Popular Sdatce Afon^A^. 


In determining the place of origin of men of genius on a 
large scale the usual method hitherto has been to adopt the 
simple plan of noting the birthplace. I have so far as possible 
discarded this method, for a man's birthplace obviously tells us 
nothing decisive as to his real place of origin. 

It has seemed to me that a man's place of origin can most 
accurately be determined by considering the districts to which 
his four grandparents belonged. If we know this we know 
with considerable certainty in what parts of the country he is 
really rooted, and in many cases we can thus form an estimate 
as to his probable race. It is only, however, in a very smaU 
proportion of cases (even when the information derived from 
the '' Dictionary " is supplemented), that I have been able to 
determine the origins of all four grandparents ; I have usually 
considered myself fortunate when I have been able to tell 
where the father and mother came from, and have often been 
well content merely to find out where the father came from. 
Only in a few cases have I admitted the evidence of birth- 
place.^ London as a birthplace has been ignored altogether. 
When the facts are available it is nearly always found that Hie 
parents had migrated to London ; we may reasonably assume 
that this is probably the case when the facts are not available. 
It very rarely occurs (as in the case of Bentham) that evm one 
grandparent belonged to London. 

In order to represent the varying values of this evidence, 
I have adopted a system of marks. If the four grandparents 
are of known origin, an eminent man is entitled to four marks, 
these marks being divided among the coimties to which he 
belongs; when the evidence is less explicit the marks are 
correspondingly diminished* By this method I am able to give 
due weight to the very numerous cases in which the parents 
(or grandparents) belonged to different parts of the kingdom. 

Speaking generally, and for the present ignoring all those 

^ This evidence varies in value ; in the case of an eminent person whose 
&ther was a fiftrmer, it is &irly acceptable ; but if the father was a clergyman it 
has little or no value. 


emment persons who are known to belong to more than one 
of the main divisions of the United Kingdom, it is found that 
508 eminent British men and women are English, 117 Scotch, 
41 Irish and 28 Welsh ; ie., 76*8 per cent, are English, 15 per 
cent. Scotch, 5*8 per cent. Irish, and 2*0 per cent Welsh. 
The preponderance of the English contingent is enormous, but 
if we take the present population as a basis it is a reasonably 
fair distribution, a very slight excess over the just proportion 
being accountable by the greater advantages necessarily 
enjoyed by the English. The Welsh contingent is also fairly 
proportional, though a little below what it should be. Here we 
have to bear in mind the difficulty of a language not recognised 
as a medium of civilisation. As regards Scotland and Ireland 
the discrepancy is marked ; the contribution of Scotland to 
British genius is much too large, that of Ireland much too 
small, in relation to the population. We probably have to 
recognise that intellectual aptitudes are especially marked 
among the Scotch, and also that the tendency has been 
fostered by circumstances, since, as is well known, the low- 
land Scotch are almost identical in racial composition with 
the northern English, and there are no artificial barriers of 
language. On the other hand, the Irish have been seriously 
hampered by geographical and to some extent by linguistic 
barriers, as well as by unfortunate political circumstances, in 
contributing their due share to British civilisation. 

Ireland shows better when we proceed to take account of 
those eminent persons who do not belong exclusively to one 
main division of the United Kingdom.^ We then find that 

' When Dr. Conan Doyle, some years ago (Nmeleenth Century, August, 
1868), examined '* Men of the Time" to ascertain their place of origin on the 
crude basis of birthplace, bis results as regards the proportion of eminent 
men furnished by England and Scotland fairly correspond to mine \ but he 
found a higher proportion of eminent men in Ireland than I have found in this 
wider survey. In a more recent study of the origins of over 2000 British men 
of ability belonging exclusively to the nineteenth centuiy, Mr. A. H. H. 
Maclean ("Where we get o«r Best Men," 1900) found that 70 per cent are 
Boglishf 18 per cent Scoteh, 10 per cent Irish, and % per cent Welsh. 


70*4 per cent, represents the total English contribution, 17*2 
per cent the Scotch, 8 per cent, the Irish, and 4*4 per cent, 
the Welsh. On the present basis of population, England 
thus has about her correct proportion of eminent persons, Ireland 
still has too few, while Wales, and especially Scotland, have too 
many. The advantage gained by the Irish and Welsh elements 
through crossing is clearly shown if we consider the eminent 
persons of mixed race alone; we then find that while the 
English proportion is 50 per cent., or as high as it could be, 
the Scotch is 20 per cent., the Irish element has risen to 17 
per cent., and the Welsh is as high as 18 per cent We may 
apparentiy infer that, from the point of view of the production 
of intellectual ability, people of Irish and Welsh stock are better 
adapted than the Scotch for cross-breeding with the English. 
There are other facts pointing towards the same conclusion, 
which is not impossible of explanation. 

I have not hitherto taken into account the foreign elements 
in the blood of British men of genius. The "Dictionary"* 
gives us no reason to suppose that these are considerable. It 
is true that a fair number of individuals of altogether foreign 
race — ^like the elder Herschel and Romilly, and many Normans 
of early time — ^are necessarily included in the " Dictionary *' 
and necessarily excluded fix)m my list Taking into considera- 
tion the British of partly foreign race, we find twelve are 
described, usually somewhat vaguely, as of Huguenot descent ; 
probably many more may be so described. Leaving aside this 
Huguenot French element — ^which is known to have every- 
where had a favourable influence on the production of intel- 
lectual ability — ^we find among men of genius who are half, or 
at least a quarter, of foreign race, that twelve are French, six 
German, six Dutch, three Italian, while seven are Danish, 
Belgian, Spanish, Bohemian or Russian. The most interesting 
point here is the peculiarly beneficial effect of the strain of 
French blood. As evidence, if evidence is needed, of the 
singularly subtie influences of race, it may be mentioned that 
of the two Englishmen of modern times who have left Protes- 


tantism to attain a place in this *^ Dictionary " as cardinals of 
the Roman Catholic Church, one (Newman) had a strain of 
French blood, the other (Manning) a strain of Italian blood. 

We have now to consider in somewhat more detail the relative 
fecundity in genius of the various districts of the British Isles. 

When the respective genius of the English counties is 
estimated on a numerical basis the results are, on the whole, 
clearly marked, though they may not altogether correspond to 
our anticipations. There can, however, be no question as to 
the situation of the great foci of English genius. There are 
two of these, and their reality is shown by the fact that each 
consists of a homogeneous group of counties. One of these 
great centres, and by far the most important, is in East Anglia, 
the other is in the south-west. 

SpeaJdng more precisely, the East AngUan focus may be 
said to include Lincoln, Rutland, Norfolk, and Suffolk, with 
Cambridge and Essex allied in character, though somewhat less 
prolific, while Kent (which I do not include) is a probably dis- 
tinct secondary centre. The south-western focus is most pro- 
lific in Devon ; its most characteristic representatives probably 
come from Somerset ; it includes Gloucester, and Wilts is pro- 
bably allied in character ; while Cornwall seems to have much 
the same relation to this focus as Kent has to the eastern focus. 

It is perhaps not generally recognised that Norfolk stands 
clearly at the head of English counties in the production of 
eminent men. In absolute numerical value it nearly equals 
Yorkshire, though the latter county is about three times its 
size, and its population (during the present century, at all 
events) of much greater average density. The quality of this 
eastern focus of genius is as remarkable as its quantity. Bacon 
belongs to Suffolk and Essex ; Nelson belongs to Norfolk, and, 
in a very different field, Gresham; Gilbert, the "father of 
experimental philosophy," was a Suffolk man, as also, it is pro- 
bable, was Chaucer ; Newton belonged to Norfolk and Rutland, 
while Darwin had his ancestral roots in Lincoln ; so that the 
two great men who may be said to represent the chief scientific 

No. 7. III. 1.— Afril 1901 o 


contribution of Great Britain — if not, indeed, of Europe — ^to 
human thought during two centuries have alike come from the 
same small and thinly populated district East Anglia is pro- 
ductive of great statesmen and great ecclesiastics ; it is also a 
land of great scholars. At the same time nearly half the British 
musical composers and more than a third of the painters have 
come from this same region. It will thus be seen that the 
East Anglian genius is of extraordinary versatility. It has no 
aptitude for abstract thinking, for metaphysics, but in concrete 
thinking, in the art of treating science philosophically, it is 
easily supreme. Its special characters seem to be its humanity, 
its patience, its grasp of detail, its deliberate flexibility ; the 
characteristic English love of compromise is rooted in East 
Anglia. So t3rpically English a statesman as Walpole, with 
his sound instincts in practical affairs, belonged to Norfolk. 
In spite, however, of the marked sanity and self-possession of 
the East Anglian, there is a weakness to be noted ; while East 
Anglia has produced many of the best Englishmen it has also 
produced a considerable proportion of the worst. Those who 
figure in English history chiefly by virtue of their villany do 
not appear in my list, but it is notable that many of the great 
men who have come down to us with a somewhat flawed repu- 
tation belong here. Bacon is a tjrpical example of the first rank ; 
Wolsey and Coke are others. When the East Anglian tem- 
perament loses its self-control and lets itself go, the results are 
not always admirable. The imscrupulous scamp, Theodore 
Hook, represents the bad side of the East Anglian character, 
just as his nephew, the sagacious ecolesiastic. Dean Hook, 
represents its good side. The worst side seems specially apt to 
come out when East Anglian blood is combined with the blood 
of more western counties.^ 

^ It must be added, at the same time, that the records of criminality, at all 
events during the present century, by no means show the East Anglian counties 
among the worst. I may add that, as is indicated by Dr. Ginan Doyle's analysis 
of '' Men of the Time," Norfolk and Suffolk maintain their intellectual supre- 
macy to the present day. 


When we turn to the south-western focus of English genius 
we find ourselves among people of different mental texture. 
They constitute a smaller group numerically, and in positive 
intellectual achievement also they cannot be compared with 
the slow and patient people of East Anglia. But if their 
achievements are less positive and substantial, the men of this 
district are, as brilliant personalities, in the very first rank. 
They are sailors rather than scholars, and courtiers, perhaps, 
rather than statesmen ; they are innovators, daring free-thinkers, 
pioneers in the physical and intellectual worlds. Raleigh, on 
both sides a Devonshire man, is the complete t3rpe of these 
people. They are, above all, impressive personalities, aggres- 
sive, accomplished, irresistible, breaking rather than bending, 
without the careful foresight of the laborious and self-distrustftil 
people of the east coast. This district has alone furnished a 
third of the great sailors of Britain, and the most brilliant 
group, with Drake and Hawkins and Gilbert as well as 
Raleigh. The expansive Elizabethan age gave the men of 
these parts their supreme chance, and they availed themselves 
of it to the utmost. Great Britain's most eminent soldiers 
have not usually been English, but one of the most famous of 
all, Marlborough, belongs to this region. In the arts of peace 
this south-western focus shows especially well in painting. It 
cannot, indeed, be compared to the East Anglian focus in this 
respect, but Reynolds belongs to Devon, and is a typical repre- 
sentative of the qualities of this region on the less aggressive 
side, just as Raleigh is on the more militant side, both aUke 
charming and accomplished personalities. Turner, it may be 
interesting to note, belonged on one side to this district, just as 
on the other he seems to have been connected with the East 
Anglian district. Fielding is associated with this region. 
Keats apparently belonged here, and probably Coleridge. 
Wesley, the founder of Methodism, was a Devon man, just 
as Browne, the founder of Congr^ationalism, was an East 
Anglian, and any one who understands the differences between 
these two organisations will grasp some of the fundamental 


differences between these two districts. Both in the material 
and spiritual worids there is an imaginative exaltation, an 
element of dash and daring, in the men of this south-western 
district, which seems to carry them through when the more 
self-conscious East Anglian, once losing his self-control, would 
be apt to fall into mere helpless turbulence. This seems to be 
why it is that the mingling of the blood of these two districts 
has produced persons who, if brilliant, are apt to be unbalanced. 
I have so far been speaking chiefly of Devon, which has 
furnished the majority of the men belonging to the south- 
western focus. This group is not, however, quite so homo- 
geneous as the eastern group, the proximity of Cornwall having 
apparently affected the men of Devon. Somerset, which is 
the centre of the focus, seems to me to present its real and 
characteristic kernel, especially on the purely intellectual side. 
We do not find here quite the same reckless dash, the some- 
what piratical tendency, nor quite the same brilliant personal 
qualities, these perhaps being strengthened by the neighbour- 
hood of Cornwall. The Somerset group of men are superficially 
more like those of East Anglia, but in reality with a very dis- 
tinct physiognomy of their own. Like the rest of this region, 
Somerset is a land of great sailors, but the typical sailor hero 
of Somerset is Blake, and the difference between Blake and 
Raleigh is significant of the difference between the men of 
Somerset and the men of Devon. Somerset has produced the 
philosophers of this region, Roger Bacon, Hobbes, Locke ; and 
in more recent days Bagehot has been a typical thinker of the 
group. Hooker, the " judicious," is among the men of Devon. 
They are not often scholars (notwithstanding the presence of the 
** ever memorable " Hales), being prone to rely much on their 
own native qualities. One recalls the remark of Hobbes, when 
charged with an indifference to books : '^ If I read as much as 
other people I should know as little as other people." While 
less concrete than the East Anglians, these eminent thinkers 
have not the abstract metaphysical tendencies of the North 
British philosophers ; they reveal a certain practical sagacity. 


a determination to see things clearly, a hatred of cant and 
shams, a certain '^ positive" tendency, which is one of the 
notes of purely English thought and may be said to have its 
headquarters here. The representative scientific man of this 
region is the brilliant and versatile Thomas Young, whose 
luminous intelligence and marvellous intuition render him a 
t3rpical example of genius in its purest form. 

In taking a bird's eye view of the distribution of English 
genius, it is interesting to note (as I have also had occasion to 
note in a study of French genius) that all the districts peculiarly 
fertile in intellectual ability are maritime districts. The 
English Midlands have always been comparatively unpro- 
ductive of genius, although they have yielded a few persons of 
exceptional eminence. Speaking more precisely, Middlesex, 
Surrey, Sussex, Berkshire, Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, 
Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire, Huntingdonshire, Northampton- 
shire, Warwickshire and Leicestershire present a compact region 
infertile in genius, all these counties together scarcely equalling 
Norfolk and Suffolk The extraordinary poverty of Middlesex 
in genius (it stands lowest of all the English counties) is 
specially notable; even among the numerous eminent men 
bom in London few or none can be definitely located as 
belonging to old-established Middlesex families. Shakespeare 
and Milton, it is true, belong to the Midlands, which have 
likewise produced numerous statesmen, though seldom of the 
first rank, men of character rather than of intellect, stolid, 
tenacious of their rights ; they had their chance in the days of 
Charles I., and Hampden represents them at the best Crom- 
well belongs by birth to this district (though by race he comes 
fix)m East Anglia on the mother's side and Wales on the 
father's), and the Midlands furnished him with some of his 
best lieutenants. Northampton (to which, as also to Lincoln, 
the Cecils belonged) is the sturdiest and richest portion of the 
Midlands as regards genius, but we must remember that this 
county benefits by driving a considerable wedge into the East 
Anglian district 


I do not purpose to consider the distribution of genius in 
Wales, Scotland and Ireland in the same detail as England* 
We are here dealing with smaller groups, and it is less easy to 
trace local diiSerences. Variations in distribution are, however, 
well marked. In Wales, Denbigh, a maritime district, is 
especially rich in genius, as are to a less extent, Radnor and 
Montgomery. The genius of Scotland, roughly speaking, has 
been produced by the tract between the Cheviots and the 
Grampians. While, however, the whole of this district is prolific 
in ability, a narrow central belt has proved itself pre-eminently 
able to breed men of intellect This belt runs from Aberdeen 
in a north-westerly direction through Forfar, Fife, Edinburgh 
with the surrounding district, and Lanark (including Glasgow) ; 
on reaching Ayr and Dumfries it widens out and stops abruptly, 
not extending beyond the English border. Aberdeen and the 
country aroimd Edinburgh have always been the two great 
centres of Scotch genius. Turning to Ireland, we find that 
intellectual ability is less concentrated in one region than is the 
case in Scotland, but here also there is a tract of country almost 
entirely destitute of genius of the rank which the present 
investigation alone covers. Dublin has been peculiarly rich in 
eminent men. Its pre-eminence over the rest of the country is 
much more marked than in the case of Edinburgh ; and largely, 
though not entirely, on that account Leinster stands at the 
head of the Irish provinces. Munster comes next, Ulster 
follows closely after, but Connaught, the north-western region 
of the island, is, Uke the north-west of Scotland, almost barren 
of intellectual ability. Outside DubUn, which is probably a 
somewhat factitious focus of genius, the really compact centre 
of Irish genius ,lies in the south-eastern group of counties : 
Kilkenny and Tipperary, Waterford and Cork. These counties 
alone have furnished a third of the whole genius of Ireland. 
Another, though smaller, centre of genius is foimd in the 
north-west, in Antrim and Down. 

Speaking generally, Wales and the Welsh border have 
produced soldiers and divines, and to a slight extent poets and 


musicians. Scotland stands at the head as regards soldiers, 
having produced, wholly or in part, no less than a third of all 
our eminent soldiers. Scotland has produced, moreover, nearly 
a fourth of British men of science, including some of the most 
eminent, and over one-fourth of British philosophers ; at the 
same time nearly all the great travellers, explorers, and 
adventurers (with the exception of a comparatively small con- 
tingent coming from our south - western English focus) have 
been produced by Scotland. This is a very high record indeed. 
Ireland has produced more than her share of soldiers, and 
there is one department in which the supremacy of Ireland is 
overwhelming : a very large proportion of British actors and 
actresses — ^including both the Kemble family, to which Mrs. 
Siddons belonged, and Garrick — ^have been, in part at least, 
Irish. It is difficult to state precisely the proportion of this 
Irish element, for the ancestry of actors is often obscure, but 
at least half of them have almost certainly had one Irish 
parent, and it is probable that this is the case with several 
otiiers. The genius of Ireland is a curiously paradoxical 
subject, and requires a study to itself. Though so many great 
men have been associated with Ireland, when we analyse them 
according to race we find that a remarkably large proportion 
of them are of English or Scotch descent. Bishop Berkeley, 
for instance, is often called an Irishman, though his father was 
English (his mother's origin is unknown), and though he always 
considered himself an Englishman. The great Irish patriots 
have usually had English blood in their veins, and have some- 
times even been proud of the fact. And yet, while this is so, 
Ireland has somehow had the art of imparting some of her 
subtlest qualities to those happy Englishmen who have had 
the good fortune to possess some slight strain of her blood, or 
to be bom in her land, or even to have lived there in youth. 
The greatest English humorists and wits — Swift and Sterne 
and Congreve — have had this good fortune. In the same way, 
while Ireland has scattered her saints over England and the 
Continent, her own patron saint is a Scotchman who was never 


canonised. The contribution of Ireland to our national genius 
cannot well be stated in numerical values. 

It is interesting to consider separately the eminent women 
of Great Britain and to ascertain their geographical distribution. 
This distribution is quite different from that of masculine 
intellectual ability; in some respects, indeed, the order is 
reversed, for Ireland comes out first after England, and 
Scotland is but little ahead of Wales. The intellectual bril- 
liancy of Irish women is very notable. While less than one- 
twentieth part of eminent British men are Irish, not less than 
one-third of eminent British women are on one or both sides 
Irish. Nor is this pre-eminence due entirely to the dramatic 
aptitudes of the Irish, for a considerable proportion of women 
of letters are Irish, Charlotte and Emily Bronte and Mary 
Wollstonecraft being among them. The Welsh contingent 
includes George Eliot. The Scotch women are not only few 
in number but are not of a very high order of eminence. The 
notable fact about the distribution of English eminent women 
is the very large proportion that comes from our East Anglian 
district generally, and especially from Norfolk and Suffolk. 
Of twenty-five women who can be definitely located in an 
English county, not less than nine belong altogether or in part 
to our East AngUan focus. It is true that they can scarcely 
be said to include those of finest imaginative or artistic qualities, 
but the concentration of eminent women in this region is still 
one of the most notable and definite facts we encounter.^ It 
contrasts with the poverty of the south-western focus in 
eminent women, only three having any connection with that 

We may, finally, glance at our various groups of eminent 
persons as classified according to their activities, noting in 
which district each tends to predominate. As might be ex- 
pected, politicians, divines, and men of letters abound in all 

^ The tendency has been well marked during the present century, and 
Dr. Doyle remarks that ** Suffolk appears to be pre-eminently the county of 
famous women." 


parts of the kingdom. It is curious to note, also, that great 
lawyers are also scattered over the whole kingdom with notable 
impartiality. Soldiers come from Ireland and Wales, and 
especially from Scotland, whence also explorers come. Sailors, 
on the other hand, are nearly all English, coming especially 
frt>m our two great centres of genius, but also to some extent 
from Cornwall, Yorkshire and Staffordshire. While poets are 
to be found everywhere, they are distinctly more predominant 
in the South of England, and to a less extent in Wales and the 
Welsh border counties ; but when we consider the origins of 
the English poets who are unanimously recognised to stand 
first, we find them scattered over the whole country as widely 
apart as possible, Chaucer probably in Suffolk, Spenser in Lan* 
cashire, Shakespeare in Warwickshire, Milton in Oxfordshire, 
Wordsworth in Yorkshire, Shelley in Sussex, Keats in Devon 
or Cornwall. There seems to be an antagonism between the 
aptitude for poetry and the aptitude for science. In the 
counties along the south coast we find scarcely any names 
eminent in science (except Harvey in Kent and one or two 
names in Cornwall), but as we go northwards, and especially as 
we reach Lancashire and Yorkshire, they rise in frequency to 
reach a climax in the southern counties of Scotland. The dis- 
tribution of philosophers seems on the whole to follow that of 
scientific men. Scholars are more widely diffused, but they 
have their chief centre in Yorkshire, no fewer than one-sixth of 
British scholars, including the typical figure of Bentley, coming 
from this county; it must be added, however, that an even 
larger proportion (including * Porson) belong to the group of 
counties included in our East Anglian district The aptitude 
for painting is very definitely located. Its great centre is in 
our East Anglian district, its secondary centre in our south- 
western district The tempers of these two schools are distinct, 
the eastern being naturalistic, with little regard for tradition, 
the western more enamoured of tradition. If we extend the 
East Anglian group so as to include Yorkshire, it may be said 
that outside these two districts there are scarcely any English 


artists. Scotland is the chief home of British painters outside 
England, though Ireland has produced a fair proportion. 
Musical composers, like painters, come chiefly from East 
Anglia, but there is also an aptitude for music on the Welsh 
border ; the greatest of British composers, Purcell, probably be- 
longs to Shropshire. WhUe actors come in largest proportion 
from Ireland, there is a small secondary centre in our south- 
western district, and also, it seems, in Wales and the Welsh 
border, while the varied ability of East Anglian men and 
women includes some dramatic aptitude. 

A survey of the racial elements of British genius, it may be 
pointed out, when conducted on a broad and impartial basis, 
effectually puts out of court those who contend that the intel- 
lectual ability of Great Britain belongs exclusively, or even in 
some disproportionately high degree, to one racial element 
only. It is evident that " Anglo-Saxons " and " Celts," the 
fair elements of om* population and the dark elements, have 
alike contributed, according to their special aptitudes, to build 
up the varied civilisation of Great Britain. 

Havelock Ellis. 


THE mountains and ruins of the Hauran have been visited 
by many distinguished travellers and arehseologists. 
Burckhardt, Witzstein, Waddington, de Vogii^, to mention a 
few out of the roll of famous names, have explored the country 
and given an accurate description of some of its remains, yet 
even a cursory survey of the hills which separate the com 
growing plain to the east of the Lake of Tiberias from the 
unfurrowed desert that stretches to the Euphrates Valley, 
impresses the traveller with a keen sense of how much is yet to 
be discovered, how much may be added to the history of 
Eastern empires, both Semitic and Roman. The difficulties in 
the way of further exploration are great. In the first place, 
the very idea of excavation fills the Oriental mind with cupidity 
and alarm, and the two sentiments are equally harmful to the 
excavator. Either you must be looking for treasure, in which 
case the right of search had better be reserved imtil some 
government envoy or local magnate can spare time to exercise 
it — ^and that would mean nothing but wholesale destruction — 
or your secret ends are without doubt evil and not unconnected 
with magic. In the second place, the Turkish Government will 
not permit the foreigner to enter the Druze territory, and it is 
only by using a disguise, or by rapid and unexpected movement, 
that he can force a passage through the barrier reef of Ottoman 
garrisons. Unfortunately, while the prohibition lies over the 
land, the monuments it contains are falling day by day into a 


more indistinguishable decay. The temples are turned into 
barracks and dwelling-places, the Druzes have re-occupied the 
stone houses of the Jebel Hauran, pulling down and building 
up as it suits their requirements ; theatre, church, and therme 
are used as quarries, and the inscribed stones of the Nabathasan 
king and the Roman governor are broken up or built topsy- 
turvy into a cottage wall. 

The general character of the Hauran architecture has been 
well described by Witzstein, de Vogii^, and others. Its dis- 
tinguishing feature is the exclusive use of stone. The builders, 
having no wood to their hand, were obliged to adapt the hard 
black basalt of the country to their need. Though the material 
is difficult to work in, it has the advantage of great strength, 
even when cut comparatively thin, as in the case of the long 
stone slabs with which every house was roofed. The space to 
be covered was reduced by a continuous corbel, and, if it was 
still too wide, one or more arches were thrown across the 
middle of the room to support the end of the slabs, the 
unlighted depths between them adding to the general obsciuity. 
Windows there were often none, and what windows there were 
did not admit much light since they were made of stone, per- 
forated with holes, which were arranged in patterns more or 
less elaborate. The doors, too, were of solid stone. Besides 
their extensive use of the arch, the later builders of the Hauran 
attacked with success the problem of the dome, and it is here 
that the pendentives, afterwards so marked a feature of Arab 
architecture, may be observed in their earliest and simplest 
form. Two or three square towers rose above every village, 
and every village possessed at least one great rectangular tank 
lined with stonework. By this Birkeh, as it is called in Arabic, 
stood the temple in later days when the Auranitis had been 
incorporated into the Roman province of Palestina Tertia ; but 
it is a ciuious subject for speculation to consider how many 
hundreds of years previously the main features of the Hauran 
villages had been established. ''Three score cities, all the 
region of Argob, the kingdom of Og, in Bashan, and all these 


cities were fenced with high walls, gates, and bars; besides 
unwalled towns a great many/' says the book of Deuteronomy 
(iii. 4), implying that an advanced civilisation existed in the 
Hauran when the Jewish tribes first conquered northwards from 
Moab and the borders of King Sihon. It was the heritage of 
the tribe of Manasseh — ^^all the region of Argob and all Bashan 
which was the land of giants " (Deut. iii. 18) — ^and in Joshua 
(xiii. 81) some of the cities are mentioned byname: ''Ashtaroth 
and Edrei, cities of the kingdom of Og, in Bashan." It was 
at Edrei that Og was defeated; the modem Dera'a, some 
twenty-five miles west of Bosrah, is generally supposed to 
occupy its site. There are traces in the Hauran of a very early 
civilisation in the form of fi*agments of cyclopean wall built 
into later edifices, and indeed of an earlier civilisation still in 
the cave dwellings with which the eastern slopes of the hills 
are honey-combed. Next follow the remains of the great 
Nabathaean kingdom, then the temples, the paved roads, and 
the triumphal arches of the Roman colony ; then the stately 
houses, the city walls, and the churches of our own era ; and, 
finally, the Mohammedan invasion swept a destroying sword 
over it all, and left behind a desolation that endured for nearly 
1800 years. 

I entered the Hauran plain firom the south-west and 
pitched my camp at Dera'a, the city of King Og. It was not 
the black basalt town of ruinous towers and half-restored 
houses that I was anxious to see, but the far more interesting 
city underground, which has been visited and described by 
Witzstein and Schumacher, and which is believed to go back 
to the hoariest antiquity. But the ICaimakam, the Tiu*kish 
Governor, put too many obstacles in my way, his object being 
to delay me until he had received definite orders from Damascus 
authorising him to prevent me from entering the Druze moun- 
tains. I have been told by a traveller, who visited the under- 
ground city a year or two ago, that it is now very difficult of 
access. The roofs and passages have fallen in and the air-holes 
are stopped up or built over ; the Sheikh's family alone have 


any knowledge of the winding corridors, and they are afraid to 
penetrate far, being convinced that they are inhabited by evil 
spirits. Accordingly I rode next day across the plain to 
Bosrah. On my way I passed through several of the black 
stone villages, and saw, at Jizeh, the first example of typical 
Hauran building. It was a small truncated tower, some 
fifteen feet square, with a stone cornice running round the top ; 
there was no window, and a minimum of light was admitted by 
the low doorway. The door was of stone, the stone rafters 
rested on a projecting corbel and were supported m the centre 
by a single arch. It is difficult to imagine that this building 
can have been a dwelling-house, nor did it exhibit any of the 
distinctive features of a shrine, such as those described by 
de Vogii^. It was the first of many that I met with in the 
Jebel Druze, and I continued to be puzzled as to their purpose. 
I was also shown a fine house with stone doors and massive 
walls, from which the original rafters had fallen and had been 
replaced by wood. It had been converted into a mosque — I 
may observe that in a Mohammedan village the mosque, and 
in a Druze village the Khalweh (the Druze place of worship), 
is always worth visiting. It is usually the best preserved of 
the old stone houses, and whereas the domestic building suffers 
considerably at the hands of its new owners, the mosque or 
Khalweh remains unaltered. I passed through the village of 
Ghusam, where I saw a house with a fine stone door and 
perforated windows built, by way of ornament, into a wall, and 
here we struck the paved Roman road, the Rasif, as the Arabs 
call it, which led us straight to Bosrah. Leaving my servants 
to find a camping-ground under the castle, I entered the town 
by the triumphal arch, the Gate of the Wind, and foimd 
myself in a narrow paved street, lined on either side with stone 
houses, razed almost to the ground, and so climbed over 
ancient Bosrah for a quarter of a mile before I came to any 
inhabited houses. The history of Bosrah does not cease with 
the Mohammedan conquest in 682. The city was for the 
invaders, as it had been for their remotest predecessors, an 

-The Gate of the Wind, Bosrah. 

Fio. 2. — Village Tank and Church Tower at Kureiyeh, 


moulding and carved ornament, the latter exhibiting that vine 
pattern which is universal in the Hauran. 

My further progress eastward was attended with difficulty, 
and during my stay in Bosrah my camp was a hot-bed of 
intrigue. I was determined to enter the Jebel Druze, the 
Mudir was equally determined to send me to Damascus 
through the plain, the Ma'amur was inclined to take my part 
out of jealousy of the Mudir (Fellah I it must be remembered), 
and the situation was complicated by a Druze Sheikh and a 
bedouin of the desert, who sent me offers of assistance, and 
with whom I could not come to speech lest the Mudir's 
suspicions should be aroused and my tents watched. Finally 
I struck camp and rode off, in the middle of a moonless 
night, to the Druze village of 'Areh, where I threw myself on 
the protection of Yahya Beg, a member of the great Druze 
family of the Attrash, who received me with all civility and 
sent me on my way rejoicing. 

The contrast between the western slope of the Jebel Druze 
and the Hauran plain is very striking. The plain, though 
exceedingly fertile, is entirely devoid of running water, the 
heat, even in April, was great, the dust intolerable, and the 
black, half-ruined villages indescribably dirty and dreary. In 
the hills, though the elevation is small, the air was cool and 
pleasant, little streams flowed through meadows deep in grass, 
the villages were clean and well ordered, an occasional fig or 
mulberry grew before the cottage door, and the higher slopes 
were clothed with dwarf oak. I pitched my camp that night 
at Hebran, a most delectable camping-ground it was, among 
tiny oaks, by the edge of a large pond and close to a Mazar, 
the shrine of a saint, which was a remarkably well preserved 
specimen of the old stone house. The Khalweh, too, was a 
fine house. It consisted, like all those that I have visited, of 
a big empty coom, the walls divided into compartments by the 
arches that supported the roof. A few felt rugs upon the 
floor, one or two rush-woven book-rests to hold the sacred 
books, and a thin black curtain to separate the women from 

FiQ. 3. — View from the Castle at Salkhad, showing the Roman Road 
across the Desert. 

Fio. + — Vine Omametit at Jemurriti. 


the men, were all it contained. No one but a Druze may take 
part in the services, but I have been told by one who knows 
the Druzes well that he believes the service to be more in the 
nature of a political meeting than of a religious ceremony. I 
breakfasted next day with the Sheikh of the village. The 
conversation ranged over many topics, from the Boer war to 
the Paris Exhibition, one after another of the notabilities of 
Hebran dropping in and, after due salutations, taking his place 
in the circle. My especial ally, a pleasant old man, by name 
Hamud Hamid (upon him be peace 1), was spokesman for the 
rest, and as I answered his questions he would turn to the 
others and exclaim : '' Hear you, oh, my friends, what she 
says I " and so repeat my reply. When many cups of coffee 
had warmed our souls, he laid his hand upon my shoulder and 
said : '' Repeat to us, oh lady, a verse from the Evangel." I 
searched my memory for a sentence that could offend the 
susceptibilities of none, and finally hit upon the injunction to 
love our neighbour as ourselves, a sound maxim, free from 
dogma, and appropriate to the lips of a guest and a wanderer. 
It was received with acclamation. " Hear you, oh my brothers " I 
cried Hamud, and the company nodded their heads approvingly 
over the coffee cups. 

I rode that morning southward to the Castle of Salkhad, 
through a charming country of little hills, well watered and 
covered with grass and orange-coloured poppies. I halted at 
the village of 'Ayun, attracted by its tall square towers. It is 
deserted, but while I was climbing among the ruins I came 
upon a large party of Druze women and children bearing 
branches of wild rose and long stalks of flowering hemlock, 
who were holding festival at the shrine of I forget what 
prophet. The Mazar was a perfect stone house with a stone 
door — Halaseh, they call it — and solid stone windows opening 
on stone hinges. The lintel and the door posts were still wet 
with the blood of a sheep that had just been sacrificed. Within, 
there was at one end of the room a kind of pedestal with a bit 
of shiny black stone upon it, half covered with a green velvet 

No. 7. III. 1.— April 1901 h 


cloth and a heap of red cotton rags. The women tore off a 
long strip of the red cotton and tied it round my horse's neck, 
** against the eye " they said. It is impossible to see a stone 
playing any part in the religious observances of an Arab race 
without being reminded of the most famous example of such a 
practice, the Black Stone at Mecca. According to De Vogii^ 
there have been found in the Hauran a number of Nabathaean 
inscriptions, mentioning gods who were, he says, worshipped 
under the form of a conical stone. Now the Nabathaeans also 
were an Arab race and probably brought their stone worship 
from the Arabian deserts. One cannot restrain an impulse to 
connect the stone in the 'Ajrun shrine with a similar cult, 
practised in this very country by people of the same race. 
Moreover, I am persuaded that these Mazars are not merely 
well-preserved stone houses adapted by the Druzes for religious 
purposes, but shrines of a far earlier period, and that they are 
an example of local traditions kept alive by the nomad Arabs, 
who have always come up to the hills, as they do at this day, 
for the early summer pasturage. The Allath and Kosiu of the 
Nabathasan inscriptions had already in Christian times made 
way for a more orthodox object of worship, but the shrine 
continued to preserve the emblem of an older divinity and 
the vestiges of more ancient rites. It is idle to specidate on 
such a subject, but the following peculiarities are worthy of 
notice as tending to prove that the Mazars have a special 
character and are not simply Druze facdy places; they are 
often placed at a considerable distance from the village, 
whereas the other houses are clustered close together, — Hebran 
and £1 Mushennef are good examples of this ; they are found 
in villages which have not been reoccupied by the Druzes, as at 
'Ayun, where the Mazar is tiie only building that has been kept 
in repair ; or they form part of edifices which are of a religious 
character, as at l^ureiyeh, where the Mazar is a domed chapel 
opening out of a large building, the roof of which is supported 
by rows of columns, and at Kanawat where it is a chamber 
in the thickness of the wall of a former church or temple. 


Salkhady which we reached at noon, lies under a small 
volcano, in the crater of which rises the castle, the most 
imposing ruin in the Hauran. It, also, was a city of King Og, 
** he that reigned in Mount Hermon and in Salcah and in all 
Bashan " says the book of Joshua (xii. v. 5). It must always 
have been important as a military outpost of Bosrah, since it 
commands the road into the desert, and for this reason, perhaps, 
the Mohammedan invaders settled in it, rebuilding the fort and 
erecting a hexagonal minaret. As far as I know, it is the only 
town in the hills, except Shahbah, which contains Mohammedan 
ruins. The paved Roman road from Bosrah turns south-east- 
ward at Salkhad and plunges into the desert, to emerge, men 
say, at Busorah on the Persian Gulf, but no traveller has 
followed its course. I myself turned westward and rode 
through what had once been a country of vineyards, and is now 
the pasturing ground of herds of camels. In a long past age 
the stones had been cleared from the surface and piled into 
heaps, and in that volcanic soil the vine must have flourished 
as it flourishes to-day on the slopes of Vesuvius. I camped at 
Kureiyah, anotiier village of great antiquity, which bears traces 
of having been twice reinhabited. The foundations of the 
houses are in many cases of huge dressed stones, like those of 
the so-called Treasury of Atreus at Mycenae ; upon these the 
usual Hauran stone work has been superimposed, and even 
this, though evidently of a later age, has an air of antiquity, 
the houses being simpler and more primitive than those of 
Kanawat and other large villages; these have fallen into 
decay in their turn and been patched up again by the Druze 
colonists. The following evening found me at El Kefr, at the 
foot of the volcanic cone of Kuleib, the highest peak of the 
Jebel Hauran. El Kefr was a fenced city, of which the walls 
are traceable ; the gateway with enormous stone doors is still 
standing. A Roman road from Bosrah runs past the village ; 
to the south there is a hill covered with ruins, which is called 
by the inhabitants £1 Husn, the Acropolis — ^a fine commanding 
place for a fort, with the additional advantage of a spring of 


water under the highest rock. The Sheikh was absent when 1 
arrived, having gone to ' Areh to visit Yahya B^, but while I 
was sitting in the Mak'ad, or reception room, drinking coffee 
with his son, he rode up and greeted me warmly. He said he 
had expected me, for Yahya had asked him whetiier he had 
seen ** a queen travelling, a consuless." That night there came 
to the tent of my highness one bearing a paper on which were 
written some elegant vers«s, composed, he assured me, especially 
in my honour. I accepted it witii many expressions of thanks, 
but he still lingered in the tent door. Then I said : '' It must 
be forgiven to me if I do not know the customs of yoiu* 
country, but in mine if any man were to write a poem con- 
cerning me I should without doubt give him a quarter of a 
Mejideh.'* He replied gravely: "It would be so" and I 
pressed the equivalent of a shilling into his hand. The verses 
— ^saving my modesty — ^ran as follows : 

Welcome to one who has visited us, the dispeller of sorrow ! 

To one who is gifted with intelligence and penetrating thought, who has illu- 
minated wit, and surpassed the lord of the ages. 

Our leader, the most high, to whom praise is due, and of whom perfection is 
the attribute ; 

Veril J the pure of heart has been encountered in the paths of God, the Exalted, 
the Sublime. 

The eastern slope of the hills has been visited less 
frequently than the western. The coimtry is of a different 
character ; to a great extent the charm of it vanishes, the bare 
rocky ground covered with thin Goarse grass looks as though it 
had caught some banefrd infection from the immense desert 
that stretches below it Here only did I observe troglodyte 
caves, and Witzstein, who explored this district more 
thoroughly than any other traveller, says that he found 
whole colonies of such caves in the eastern hills. On the 
other hand, the villages are extensive, and do not appear to be 
as ancient as those in the west; they abound in Christian 
architecture, the cross figures largely in the decorative scheme 
of lintel and arch, and the houses themselves are spacious and 

FiQ. 7.— The Walls, Kanawat. 

Fia. 8.— Old Houses at Basan. 


many windowed, and belong to a more luxurious age than any 
that I had yet seen* There seems to be no connecting link 
between the dwellers in caves, who were presumably the same 
people that excavated the underground city of Dera'a, and the 
builders of the large stone houses and churches of Saleh, Busan, 
and Orman, and I hazard the suggestion that the bleak eastern 
slopes were not colonised by the earlier invaders, and that they 
owed their development mainly to the overflowing population 
of the Roman province. The most interesting of these villages. 
El Mushennef, contains a charming little temple. The western 
end is raised by a few steps above a tank hewn out of the 
solid rock ; of the southern wall little remains ; the northern is 
standing precariously, a great bulge outward showing that its 
days are numbered ; the eastern has fallen, and been roughly 
built up again out of fragments of column and frieze, and the 
carved blocks that formed part of the doorway. A paved area 
lies in front of it, on which can be seen the bases of columns 
that stood on either side of the path leading up to the temple 
door. The simplicity and good workmanship of all the details 
are very rare in the Hauran. I have not seen any published 
photograph of this temple. The village stands on the top of a 
steep ravine, in the slopes of which I saw a fine cave dwelling, 
opening out into smaller caves, such as those which Witzstein 
describes as having been used as stables for cattle. I noticed 
in several places flights of steps running down below the houses, 
and the Sheikh explained that every house had formerly a great 
cellar, and that these cellars were connected with one another 
so that they formed a second town underground. This would 
resemble Dera a. 

After I had enjoyed the Sheikh's hospitality, which took 
the form of fried eggs and a kind of treacle, he inquired 
whether I wished to gaze upon an idol, a suggestion with which 
I instantly closed. The idol was lying upon the top of a 
ruined wall ; it was a recumbent figure of a man, almost life- 
size, carved in the rudest manner out of a single block of 
stone, aad so much defaced by time ai^d weather that no detail 


of dress or feature remained. In imagination I set it before 
the temple door, a pious founder or restorer of one of the most 
attractive edifices in the Hauran. 

At Busan, a village inhabited by some twenty Druze 
families, I saw the ruins of several magnificent houses. In the 
block of building on the left-hand side of the photograph there 
was a small comer room into which water had been run along 
stone conduits, which were still in almost perfect repair. An 
agreeable Druze, who had appointed himself my guide that 
morning took me into it and said : " This was the Hamman of the 
lady of the house — ^you see there are no windows so that she 
could wash unseen." The other rooms were well lighted by large 
apertures, but I found none of the perforated stone windows 
which seem to belong to an earlier period than that represented 
by these houses. The Prophet Job has a Mazar in Busan. A 
broken column stands before the door, with a capital placed 
upon it for an altar stone ; both were brown and sticky 
with the blood of sheep that had been sacrificed there. The 
Prophet Job is much reverenced in the Hauran. He has 
another shrine at Kanawat, near which I camped that night, 
under the colunms that have served temple and cathedral and 
still point a silent finger to Heaven above the ruins of both. 

Kanawat, which was the ancient Kenath, the city taken by 
Nobah, " and the villages thereof," and called by him after his 
own name (Numbers xxxii. v. 42), has been described by 
travellers far better qualified than I am to pronounce judgment. 
It contains large and splendid houses with stone doors carved 
into panels, several temples, a small theatre, a nympheum, and 
extensive fortifications. Moreover, the Roman pavement still 
lies in the streets. I give a view of the group of ruins, which 
Rey conceives to have been the episcopal palace and cathedral 
built on the site and out of the materials of temples of the 
late empire, and details of one of the doorways, which is a good 
example of Hauran decoration ; also of a peripteral temple 
outside the town, and a view of the city wall with a square 
tower, supposed to be a funeral tower like those of Palmyra, 

Fio. 9- — Cathedral of Kanawat. 

Fio, 10. — ^Doorwav, Kannwat. 


on the right, and a prostyle temple behind, and a nearer view 
of the same temple. 

The most interesting of the "villages thereof" is mi- 
doubtedly Si'ah a suburb of Kanawat, though it is razed 
almost to the ground and presents the appearance of a confused 
mass of fallen stones. The Comte de Vogii^ spent some time 
examining it, and discovered the remains of a temple, which he 
proved by inscriptions in the Nabathaean character to have been 
founded by Maleikath I. in the year 28 b.c. Here then is a 
monument of that great Nabathaean empire which stretched 
from the Red Sea to Damascus, and of which so little is 
known. It has been established by their inscriptions, which 
are in the Falmyrene script, that their language was Syriac, 
their race Arabian ; indeed, Diodorus, in his accoimt of the 
siege of Fetra, their chief town, in 812 b.c., describes them as a 
powerful race of nomadic Arabs; and Josephus, in relating 
their wars with Herod the Great, always speaks of them as 
Arabs. They succeeded to the country and the commerce of 
the Edomites, extended their kingdom northwards, profiting 
by the weakness of the Seleucids, and in 85 B.C. seized 
Damascus. " Aretas the king," in St. Faul's account of his 
escape from that city, was a Nabathsean monarch. In 105 of 
our era Fetra was taken by the Romans, and the whole 
country submitted to Trajan ; but the northern provinces had 
lost their nominal independence, when the Trachonitis and 
the Auranitis (the Leja and the Haiu-an) were granted to 
Herod. From Si'ah to Fetra is a far cry, yet a certain parallel 
may be found in the architecture of the two places, not in 
the great rock-cut tombs of Fetra, which have no counter- 
part in the Hauran, but in the buildings that stand in the 
middle of the valley, the palace, and the triumphal arch. 
These, like the Si'ah temple, are imitations of Greek work, 
modified by Arab traditions and transformed by Arab arti- 
ficers. The note was struck by the Nabathaean builders, and 
the later workmen of the Roman colony, whether in the 
Hauran or at Fetra (for I do not know that the buildings there 


can be accurately dated), followed in their steps. All along the 
east of Jordan the style is, roughly speaking, the same ; the 
same overloaded decoration combined with flatness and crude- 
ness of execution, the same immoderate use of colunms in 
street and temple, the same exaggeration of proportions, the 
lengthening upwards of the members from stylobate to archi- 
trave. Possibly there is still some temple or frontier fort in 
the eastern desert, imknown except to the herdsmen of the 
'Anazeh and the Beni Sakhr, which may afford to fiituie 
explorers a frirther clue to the elucidation of that most interest- 
ing and difficult subject, the relation of oriental to occidental 

From Si'ah I rode to the top of the hill that I might take 
a Fisgah glimpse of Suweidah, a town frdl of important ruins. 
It is occupied by a Turkish garrison, the only gairison in the 
Jebel Druze, and connected with Damascus by a telegraph 
wire, on both of which grounds I felt that the extremely un- 
official nature of my entry into the mountaii\s rendered it 
inexpedient that I should visit it The hillside, down which we 
rode, was scattered over with small square towers, and I passed 
one completely deserted village standing by the edge of a pool 
of water, gay with a white flowering weed. So perfect were 
the houses of Masakib, that it was difficult to realise that for 
nearly fourteen hundred years the fires had been extinguished 
on the hearthstones and none had come at sunset to draw 
water from the shining pool The hills were clothed with 
hawthorn and thickets of dwarf oaks, the d^^enerate de- 
scendants of the oak forests of Bashan that frumished wood for 
the oars of Tyre. It seems inconsistent with the allusions to 
the oaks of Bashan in the Old Testament to speak of the 
exclusive use of stone for building purposes as having been 
necessitated by the absence of wood. I can only imagine that 
the stone architecture originated in the Hauran plain, which is 
destitute of trees, and was subequently copied in the hill 
towns. Before we reached Kanawat we passed over the field 
where a great battle was fought against the Turks five years 

Fig. 1 1. — Peripteral Temple, Kanawat. 

Fio. 12.— Prostyle Temple, Kanawat. 


ago. My companion, who had himself been a combatant and 
had lost two brothers on that day, showed me where the fight 
had swayed between Suweidah and Kanawat, and the Druze 
line of retreat northwards. 

I spent an exciting and difficult evening at Kanawat. 
The Sheikh ed Din and various other notabilities of the town 
came to my tent in turn, at dusk and stealthily, and told me 
important political secrets in flowery Arabic, extremely hard 
to understand, and further complicated by the necessity of our 
all speaking under our breath, like conspirators in a melodrama. 
They were mainly concerned with the quarrels and reconcilia- 
tions between the Druze sheikhs of the Lebanon and the 
Haiu-an ; but, like Herodotus, I feel bound not to reveal what 
I heard, for a reason somewhat similar, perhaps, to that which 
actuated the father of history. Four days later I reached 
Damascus by a route which is well known and has been often 
described. I will only add that the most interesting of the 
two temples of 'Atil is daily falling into more hopeless decay 
in the hands of the Druze sheikh who occupies it, and that the 
great theatre of Shahbah will soon share the same fate. 

As I came to the top of the last hill and saw Damascus 
gleaming white among its gardens in the plains below, I felt 
i^y. royalty and my consulhood drop from me. I have hidden 
my crown and the staves of my lictors by the edge of the 
dusty road ; there they await the day when I shall ride back 
and dig them up again, and return to a country where the 
traveller is so well received and where the archaeologist would 
be so amply rewarded. 

Gertrude Lowthian Bell. 


Somewhat paradoxical^ as well as original^ is Sir Walter Armstrong's 
presentation of Sir Joshua. It is difficult to imagine a great artist^ the creator 
of a splendid succession of masterpieces, who was yet not endowed with 
artistic fire or original inspiration ; but this is practically what the author 
requires of us. 

I WAS really surprised to find that the Morning Post was 
right; Sir Walter Armstrong had made this demand. After 
reading his book I am bound to confess that, while it bears 
witness to considerable stores of information, and a real effort 
to keep up with the van of studio opinion. Sir Walter s 
original creation has impressed me like a new town or raw 
suburb, where the contrast that glaring brick and mortar make 
with grass and cows jars on the mind. He has a great admira- 
tion for Gainsborough ; it goes a long way, too far I think ; 
yet one cannot help liking admirations that go too far ; though, 
alas! the object of a man's admiration may be his angel 
altogether as Brutus proved himself Caesar's : and thus we find 
that, in order to glorify his angel. Sir Walter has not only 
produced a complete theory of art, but written a book to put 
Rejmolds in his right place — ^that is, considerably lower than 
the angel's. And since he believes that " What a man wants 
from a work of art is knowledge of the man behind it," 
Rejmolds has to be proved less admirable as a man than 
Gainsborough. But even this noble purpose can scarcely 
palliate such methods as these. Of the painter Ramsay he 
says : 


Unfortunately, when a happy idea occurred to him, he was afraid to make 
the most of it, and left it often in a state of tantalising incompleteness. Per- 
haps this deficiency helped him with Reynolds : certain it is that, when Ramsay 
was appointed painter to the king on the accession of George III., Reynolds 
showed no symptom of disappointment or jealousy. (P. 42.) 

Now, is that a fair way to interpret any good man's life 
whose faults seem all too few, for the support of our theory 
about his art ? Re3molds' cold and jealous nature is part of 
Sir Walter's new theory, and such a passage shows how he 
tries to establish it. He reproaches Reynolds with " deductive 
and inductive weakness," and certainly shows his own strength 
in reasoning from the whole to a part in the following 
passage : 

It was the year ... of Northcote's departure from the master's house, 
to set up for himself^ an event which probabfy left a* less distinct impression 
on Sir Joshua's memory than his own election into the Academy of Florence. 
(P. 97.) 

On the formation of our Royal Academy he says that 

reserved complete liberty of action until the bribe of the Presidency was 
actually pressed into his palm and his fingers closed upon it I do not say 
this in the least by way of blame^ but merely to support my reading of his 
character. (P. 56.) 

Of course the muvet^ of this does not excuse the bad taste ; 
but when we consider that even Sir Walter does not wish to 
deny that Reynolds was patently the right man for this office, 
it becomes worse than bad taste, it comes as near as naivetd 
can to being ^* dishonest," to use a favourite epithet of Sir 
Walter's own. Would it not have been natural to say that 
Reynolds was restrained from much activity in regard to the 
preliminaries because he could not fail to see that he had been 
tacitly appointed to receive the chief honour in case of success ? 
But the most scandalous instance of Sir Walter's (to put it a 
little more mildly) unfair colouring is one in which we should 
not fail to remark his '' inductive strength." 

And yet, with ail his affection for his favourite niece, the marriage does 


not seem to have stirred Reynolds from his normal attitude towards the eon- 
cems of other people. Here is the letter he wrote on the occasion : — 

My bear Offy^ — I intended to have answered your letter immediately, and 
to have wrote at the same time to Mr. Gwatkin, but was prevented, and 
have been prevented every evening since. However, I proposed doing so this 
evening, and disengaged myself from Mrs. Elliott's (where Polly is gone) on 
purpose. But this moment Mr. Edmund Burke has called on me, and proposes 
a party, but desires I would write whOe he waits at my elbow, for that he will 
add something himself. You must suppose, therefore, that I have wished and 
expressed everything that affection to you and friendship to Mr. Gwatkin 
would dictate. 

That you may be as happy as you both deserve is my wish, and you will 

be the happiest couple in England. So God bless you ! I will leave the rest to 

Mr. Burke. 

Your most affectionate Unde, 

January 30th, 1781. J. Rbynoum. 

Burke was less summary, and, putting aside one little touch of pomp, 
sent as graceful a letter as any young couple could wish for at their setting 
out in life. 

This is on p. 128 ; on p. 158 we find : — 

Ofiy, his favourite Offy, was aUowed to marry an approved suitor without 
even a letter of goodwill, until Burke forced itjrom him. 

Now, if Burke forced Reynolds at all, it was to write a note 
with some one at his elbow instead of a letter at his leisure and 
alone as he had intended. ** A method of tiiis kind can make 
anything out of anything." It would have been natural to 
suggest, by way of comment, that under the circumstances, 
from a nature respectful of its own emotions and of those of 
one dear to it, such a note very probably conveyed far more 
than Burke's graceful letter. The above are only a few out 
of many instances. Now, if Sir Walter shows so great a bias 
on matters in dealing with which our conunon humanity and 
the civilised atmosphere we breathe might be expected to 
keep one fairly erect, what will he not do when treating sub- 
jects in which the majority have not yet learned to take an 
interest, and therefore in dealing with which our common 
humanity lends no aid ? Let us sqq. 


In the first place, Sir Walter^s excuse for thus detract- 
ing from Reynolds' character is that it helps his view of 
Reynolds' art He considers that Reynolds' cold and cautious 
nature hampered itseli with theories, and frequently stifled 
his genius under the ashes of calculation. One is tempted 
very often by Sir Walter to have resort to a maxim of the 
late Lord Tennyson whish is of greater convenience than 
truth : " Men always impute themselves " — ^their own motives. 
Indeed, I cannot forbear to suggest here that Sir Walter s 
energy and self-reliance are, if not frustrated, reduced in 
radiance by raw and gusty theories, not cautious, it is true, 
but hasty. 

By way of introduction to his '' Gainsborough," Sir 
Walter exposes his theory of fine art at some length, and 
therein attempts to define beauty as " fitness expressed " — I 
do not think with success. As we are the happy contem- 
poraries of a clear and fine thinker on these subjects, may we 
not surmise that, had he read Mr. George Santayana,^ he might 
not have felt so pleased with this definition. He artlessly tells 
us his theory may be tested in objects ** more modem than 
the form of woman. Take a railway engine for instance." 
But suppose we take instead a really simple case. Could he 
distinguish tints of blue as such by means of the fitness they 
express, or that *^ essential harmony of their phenomena" 
which he calls to his aid in regard to ** things which have no 
definite use," such as a '^ Swiss landscape." True, we call 
beautiful whatever is fitted to reconunend itself to those who 
possess a sense for beauty ; but to others, in whom this sense 
is lacking, such fitness could never express itself, while it 
suffices the seers of beauty without advertisement and never 
betrays them. Yet Sir Walter finds himself forced to sup- 
pose that unfitness may be palmed ofi^on us by a lying outside, 
and fitness often kept in unmerited obscurity by incapacity 
to express itself, such, it would seem, is the dignity of his 
fundamental premise ! Of his conclusion, no more need con- 

1 " The Sense of Beauty," " Poetry and Religion " (Messrs. A. & C. Black). 



cem us than may be put shortly thus — ^that we do not admire 
works of art for their beauty, but as revelations of their author's 

What a man wants firom a work of art is knowledge of the man behind it, 
and through that knowledge a comprehension of the highest or at least most 
essential faculties of his own kind. 

Sir Walter considers these faculties highest because they 
" compete with the creative powers of Nature herself." And 
thus we and she may go on teeming for ever. But nature and 
men create both bad and good, hideous and lovely ; and the 
bad and hideous are often, for all we know, as fit as the good 
and beautifiiL The now happily extinct popularity of steel 
engraving well illustrates this admiration for the man behind 
the work. Have we not heard old gentlemen, oblivious to the 
result, wonder at the fineness of the lines, the hardness of the 
steel, and the time and patience expended ; being indeed wholly 
enamoured of the man behind the work, and what, perhaps. Sir 
Walter would not be wrong in calling *' most essential &culties " 
of our kind, patience and industry ? But patience and application 
by themselves, nay, even energy and self-reliance by them- 
selves, are a mere perpetual-motion theory ; they need concep- 
tions of beauty, virtue, truth to give them purpose, to make 
them rational Pictures would be equally admirable wve they 
produced like the pearl, by a disease of the oygter. Beauty is 
^*an idea that subsists only in the mind; the sight never 
beheld it," says Sir Joshua; yes, it is what gives us the imme- 
diate perception that this or that is beautifnl, Aill of resemblance 
to beauty, just as a sense for colour makes us distinguish red, 
blue, and green things from those that are colourless. 

Beauty is the same in art as in nature. This being so, it is 
natural that, in common speech about works of art, the man's 
name should be a convenient handle for beauties known to us 
through his work ; but it is he that is admired on account of 
them, and not they on his account ; essential excellence is in 
the work itself quite apart £rom the fact as to whetha it was 
produced by a man or an oyster. I should not have discussed 


Sir Walter s theory, which is neither new nor true, had he not 
taken upon himself to be very severe on Reynolds' theories, 
and even gone so far as to print the words, " His ideas not 
profound," as a headline for p. 188. Sir Walter's own ideas 
are perhaps profound, yet they have not that lucidity and 
reasonableness that the more part of Reynolds' ideas possess 
in an eminent degree. But I will do him the justice to own 
that he seems to me never to have understood ideas whose 
depth he has fathomed and pronounced ** not profound." He 
gives an epitome of the " Discourses " ; I cannot hope to sur- 
pass it in brevity, but wiU try to in aU other respects. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds' discourses were delivered to students. 
In addressing young beginners, a master will naturally insist on 
the resources that, accumulated by the past, await us all ; he 
will strive to show how these resources may be turned to 
account Having an assembly of variously gifted individuals 
before him, he will in a general way sketch different lines of 
development that have been followed in the past ; while point- 
ing out that each must be true to that which he is naturally 
fitted for, he will none the less insist that, in his own opinion, 
and that of the most mature judges, one line of development is 
considered the most excellent, even if that be not the one he 
himself has followed. He will bid them all, whether naturally 
inclined or not, to give this their earnest consideration, so that 
they may not choose an inferior walk from ignorance, but if 
they choose one as he himself had done, that their choice may 
be founded on the limitations imposed on them by a know- 
ledge of their own capacities, and not made because an external 
accident has shut them off from perceiving a better way, one 
both better in itself and to which they were better adapted. 
To this end he will tell them to study in a less degree all great 
schools that they may assimilate excellences from all, and will 
warn them that the heights which it took a Michael Angelo a 
lifetime to scale they must not expect to seisse at the first rush, 
even if sufficiently endowed to reach them later on. That they 
must have patience with what they do not yet imderstand, and, 


like little children, imitate their betters as a means whereby to 
grow like them. To this main line of argument Reynolds 
returns over and over again, showing in relation to what part 
of it any particular advice is to be taken. And then Sir Walter 
tells us : 

Be Venetian, if jou like, but, at all events, dnw correctly, keep ideal forms 
of men, women, draperies, etc., before jour minds ; generalise, and do not be 
seduced into any kind of particularity ; beware of Nature, she is only to be 
looked at through the eyes of others; do not imagine you can invent^ the modem 
substitute is imitation, and the only invention now possible is the making 
of some infinitesimal addition to previous inventions. That is a fair epitome of 
his advice to students, but he reversed it in practice. (P. 181.) 

Yes, it is as fair as Sir Walter's use of Reynolds' note to 
his niece or his treatment of the Ramsay incident, and brings 
us no nearer the truth. Now let us hear Reynolds : 

The art which we profess has beauty for its object ; this it is our business 
to discover and express ; the beauty of which we are in quest is general and 
intellectual; it is an idea that subsists only in the mind; the sight never 
beheld it, nor has the hand expressed it : it is an idea residing in the breast of 
the artist, which he is always labouring to impart, and which be dies at last 
without imparting ; but which he is yet so far able to communicate, as to raise 
the thoughts and extend the views of the spectator ; and which, by a succession 
of art, may be so far diffused, that its effects may extend themselves imper- 
ceptibly into public benefits, and be among the means of bestowing on whole 
nations refinement and taste ; which, if it does not lead directly to purity of 
manners, obviates at least their greatest deprivation, by disentangling the 
mind from appetite and conducting the thoughts through successive stages of 
excellence, till that contemplation of universal rectitude and harmony which 
began by taste, may, as it is exalted and refined, conclude in virtue. 
(Discourse IX.) 

Now we see how much truth Sir Walter's epitome con- 
tained, and how little Sir Joshua thought had been done when 
compared with what remained to do ; how little he supposed 
that the artist drew everything from the past, how much he 
relied on inborn faculties, and what great benefits he desired 
for the raw world. If pompous and abstract, it is serious, 
earnest and careful, and in a style that certainly does not 
deserve the strictures of a man who indulges in negligences so 


purposeless as this: ** England, no doubt, is an inartistic 
nation " (page 88). 

Sir Walter Armstrong has, perhaps, mistaken his vocation : 
he does not seem felicitous as a theorist, or as a judge of 
character, or as an art-critic; many and amazing and pre- 
posterous are his more particular mistakes. Yet some of them 
are very fashionable at the present time. He talks of 
Romney's methods of execution being '' infinitely sounder and 
more honest" than those of Reynolds. Reynolds experi- 
mented in order to produce effects for the production of which 
the tradition had been lost, and some of his experiments were 
disastrous to the durability of his pictures. But the durability 
of a picture has nothing to do with its merit as a work of art. 
Just as Gkiinsborough pre-eminently did, every born artist, if 
unsupported by an adequate tradition, will become an experi- 
menter. There are no effects by which beauty is attained 
" more honest " or " sounder " than others. Least of all those 
of the lucky and good-for-nothing Ronmey who takes what 
little he has from Reynolds and spoils it. In the ''Dis- 
courses " we read : 

The great end of all these arts is to make an impression on the imagination 
and the feeling. The imitation of nature frequently does this ; sometimes it 
fails, and something else succeeds. 

And the same argument applies equally to technical 
methods ; in proportion as the result is beautiful we have art : 
of course we desire that works of art shall last, and Reynolds 
altered his methods when he foimd that his pictures were 
cracking and changing. In the fourteenth " Discourse," which 
is unique as a monument of the dignity, generosity, sweetness, 
and lucidity with which a man, though a contemporary, may 
judge another, though he be a rival, Reynolds says of Gains- 
borough : 

Though he did not much attend to the works of the great historical 
painters of former ages, yet he was well aware that the language of the art — 
the art of imitation— must be learned somewhere ; and, as he knew he could 
not learn it in an equal degree, from his contemporaries, he very judiciously 
No. 7. III. I.— Amu. 1901 i 


applied himself to the Flemish school .... And to satisfy himself as well 
as others, how well he knew the mechanism and artifice which thej employed 
to bring out that tone of colour which we so much admire in their works, he 
occasionally made copies from Rubens, Teniers, and Vandyck, which it would 
be no disgrace to the most accurate connoisseur to mistake, at first sight, for 
the works of those masters. What he thus learned he applied to the originals 
of nature, which he saw with his own eyes, and imitated, not in the manner of 
those masters^ but in his own. 

We now can add Reynolds' own name to the masters from 
whom Gainsborough gained not a little ; but in another place 
he adds: 

This excellence was his own, the result of his particular observation and 
taste : for this he was certainly not indebted to the Flemish school, nor, indeed 
to any school ; for his grace was not academical or antique, but selected by 
himself from the great school of nature ; and there are yet a thousand modes 
of grace, which are neither theirs, nor his, but lie open in the multiplied 
scenes and figures of life, to be brought out by skilful and faithful observers. 

What becomes of Sir Walter's epitome, "and the only 
invention now possible is the making of some infinitesimal 
addition to previous inventions " ? He cannot, surely, have 
read these " Discourses " disinterestedly, but with his theory 
and the glorification of his " angel " in his mind ; and as these 
were to be served, Reynolds was misunderstood. Sir Walter 
seems to have thought that genius must be like the spider in 
the " Battle of the Books " ; can it have been for the spider's 
own reason ? 

For, pray, gentlemen, was there ever anything so modem as the spider in 
his air, his turns, and his paradoxes ? he argues in behalf of you, his brethren, 
and himself with many boastings of his native stock and great genius ; that he 
spins and spits wholly from himself, and scorns to own any obligation or assist- 
ance from without. 

Originality — as it is wrongly called, for what is meant is 
not that but the most unfurthering self-assertion — ^has become 
a deadly affliction during the last fifty years. The conditions 
which formed the nurseries of all great schools of art have been 
precisely those most calculated to repress immature self- 
assertion. But the popular adoption of education by means 
of an applied veneer, instead of a transforming discipline com- 


bined with the accessibility of the results of leaming, has pro- 
duced a vast emigration of facile talents and crude hopefuls ; 
their ** power-generators " are our huge advertisement machines ; 
their America is the accumulation of recorded thought and 
fact which lies within easy reach of the modem mind ; and 
thus many writers and artists of to-day appear very much as 
do the manipulators of trusts and rings, when compared with 
the merchants and master craftsmen who in their guilds gave 
and received dignity to and from historic towns; We may 
know where information is, we may turn it over as the Chicago 
merchant '' handles hogs/' we may turn it to such account as 
to be envied and honoured ; and yet with their few scrolls and 
narrow world men in ancient Greece may have possessed more, 
enjoyed more, and created more that is excellent than we have 
had any guess of. Though we be as contented with our pro- 
gress and more so than they were, how difficult it is in regard 
to oneself and one's contemporaries to distinguish what is 
fatuous from what is serene. 

Has not the old world in things intellectual been tempted 
to become a new world, and, driven by a supposed necessity of 
developing huge resources, jrielded to a truly American neglect 
of its inner self and good manners? Has not the cry for 
originality risen like a "yellow Press" with its straining for 
sensation, its demand for the ''authentic thrill"? Every 
writer on art wUl now astonish us with a brand-new theory. 
He gazes over the realm of past achievement as an acrobat 
views a gymnasium ; he seizes Giorgione for a trapeze and is 
head over heels to amaze us. The world goes on and on, and 
who knows what the upshot will be ? A sparrow in the hand 
is worth more than a bird of paradise on the wing, and yet — 
excellence 1 to attain that or keep it undiminished the wisest 
and noblest men have not only lived strenuously but been will- 
ing to relinquish their hold on life and the world. Mr. Greorge 
Santayana, in his admirable voliune of essays, has underlined 
this new-world barbarism; he points out how some vigorous 
modem authors have viewed the universe as the solution of the 
problem of perpetual motion, anid seen the wheels of life and 


passion turning for the sake of turning, without producing any- 
thing but the next revolution, happy in the consciousness that 
they were helping to keep up the stir. We have all heard 
people caU something like this '' life," and seen them constantly 
longing to be in ** the thick of it " — experience for the sake of 
experience 1 and in the young this temper will at times have 
appeared charming. But when we gaze back into the past, 
works executed in severe obedience to high standards of excel- 
lence, lives given wholly to the service of perfection, kindle in 
our own breasts thoughts and ideals that make life for the sake 
of living seem a cheap and tawdry noticm. This is the great 
claim of the past, its power, its spelL 

Sir Walter Armstrong has perhaps been too eagerly drawn 
into the exploitation of our vast modem resources, as his 
rapidly sequent publications on the life and works of Velasquez, 
Gainsborough, and Reynolds might suggest. As one reads, by 
a kind of magic, the spirit of his words embodies itself, and 
there appears a complete man, enviably self-reliant, frank, and 
with that air of despatch which one imagines for a ruling spirit of 
the firm that undertakes the Atbara Bridge. Yet I am forced to 
conclude that Sir Walter Armstrong, though a lover, is not likely 
to be a leader of fashion, since for his view of the " Discourses " 
all the eloquence and enthusiasm of Ruskin had already failed 
to make a fortune, and very likely his notions about ** paint " 
are, in the studio world, as a witty friend of mine once said, only 
what the last frock-coat but one is to the would-be dude. Like 
that of so many honest secretaries. Sir Walter's imagination 
serves his ruling interest alone. It deserts him when he has 
to deal with the scribbled notes that Reynolds made in Italy. 
He cannot realise that they are like dust from the wings of a 
moth, a Psyche, once light of wing, who visited many flowers 
from which no pollen can be found mingled with the meal 
brushed off in her bygone vagrancy. It is just as much a foible 
of fashion to call Baroccio a *' paint slinger " to-day as in the 
eighteenth century it was to leave the great primitives nameless 
and speak of them under the collective appellation of ^' the 
Gothic Masters." There is only a difference of breeding in the 


two cant terms, for Baroccio is a painter of real merit, whose 
works Sir Walter perhaps has not looked into with sympathy 
for the very reason which he supposes led Reynolds to neglect 
Giotto. Wiser it must have been to assume that a large share 
of the mature and just praise which Reynolds gave to the 
" Gothic Masters " was paid to Giotto, than, as Sir Walter does, 
to conclude from the fragmentary pencil scribblings of a young 
man's pocket-book, that Reynolds had failed to appreciate 
what perhaps he had no sufficient opportunity of seeing ; and 
certainly scanty time had been his in which to bridge over 
the gulf that separated those days from the thirteenth century, 
across which now the labour of many leisured scholars has. 
thrown a roadway that any tramp may traverse. Imagine 
Sir Walter without his Baedeker, without Morelli or Crowe 
and Cavalcaselle ! Reynolds might more justly be called 
the discoverer of Bellini, as Bume-Jones was, I believe, of 
Carpaccio, than found fault with for only making a single 
mention of his work. One is almost led to think it not im- 
probable, so extravagant is Sir Walter's bias, that he considers 
the four caricatures at Dublin *^ technically '' Reynolds' best 
painting, not even on account of some cherished theory so much 
as that they happen to be under his charge. Such personal 
enthusiasms are not unpleasing in the director of a public 
gallery ; we like to know that national treasmres are dear to 
him who is their warden. The energy, enthusiasm and self- 
reliance that Sir Walter displays, if severely directed to research 
work, might lead to far more valuable results than his essays 
in the grand style of fine-art theory, well meant but not 
£Etvoured by nature. How ridiculous it is to say that Rembrandt 
never tells a story ! Who, among painters, except Giotto, can 
compare with him as story-teller and dramatist? But Sir 
Walter takes seriously the fashionable nonsense about pictures 
not having literary merit when good. Reynolds often, appa- 
rently, takes into consideration the like balderdash ciurent in 
his day, diplomatically soothing his hearers, but slips in some 
phrase the while that lets a careful reader know that he had a 
shrewd guess of its real value. 


Th6 <' Discourses " contain what I believe is the best art- 
criticism yet written. Reynolds brought to bear on these great 
questions not alone vast practical experience^ but a rare 
docility of disposition which enabled him to benefit by 
experience and observation. In studying the great historical 
painters he saw that, in order to '' ^ve a future to their past,*' 
it was necessary to go back on the false road made by his 
immediate predecessors. As I have not space to give a detailed 
explanation of his theory here, I will briefly point out how a 
major part of the art achieved in the past century has been 
produced on the lines he, with so sure an instinct, indicated. 
Turner, Alfred Stevens, Watts, Ingres, Delacroix, Barye, 
Millet, Puvis de Chavannes, and Rodin have all attained a 
European reputation as men of genius, and deserve, I believe, 
the highest places among their contemporaries ; but, in any 
case, they are pre-eminent for the large part they have given to 
study of past masters, and many of them for that eclectic 
catholicity advised by Reynolds. Our pre-Raphaelite school 
was also a return to the past, but set out with insufficient 
information, and retained technically too much the character of 
an adventure of amateurs. Millais was professional enough, 
but, unfortunately, cannot be said to have possessed himself 
of a spirit such as great masters evince, or of any substitute 
for such of sufficient dignity to give him much weight as an 
exception. Sir Walter quotes him with approval for his 
strong sense in saying that ** paint was paint and talking talk " ; 
not only did he fall a victim to our English self-assiurance but 
also to our " Anglo-Saxon commonness and vulgarity." When 
will our men of parts mark the example of Milton and heed 
the advice of Reynolds, and so become aware of the trap that 
is laid for them in our national self-sufficiency, till by trusting 
less to, they make more of, their gifts ? Alas, most of them, 
like Sir Walter, are so wide awake as to seem quite blind. 
Had he been as disinterested as a critic should be, he might 
perhaps have remembered that the greatest living painter is 
one whose native endowments constrained him to study and 
imitate those whom Reynolds called "the great histmoal 


painters" in a more direct way than Reynolds' geniifs per- 
mitted to him ; and that not only can a large section of his 
work be looked on as a splendid vindication of the great 
President's advice, but in his portraits also he is the only name 
of the past century who has worthily continued the successes 
of Gainsborough and Reynolds. I refer, of course, to our 
venerable English master. Watts. 

The career of the greatest modem French painter bears 
witness to the same thing. Puvis de Chavannes breathed 
from the antique and the earlier Renaissance the sweet 
serenity of his gay and noble creations. In sculpture, Europe 
has had three names of the first rank — ^Alfred Stevens, Barye, 
Rodin. Alfred Stevens derived solely from the later Renais- 
sance; Barye refound the Greek tradition before the age of 
Phidias; and Rodin, an experimentalist, has studied every- 
where. Especially has he drawn from that fountain-head, 
Michael Angelo, and his work bears deep traces of this com- 
merce ; though, as Reynolds says of Gainsborough, he has 
''found out a way of his own to accomplish his purpose." 
With these men's work before my eyes, I fail to fathom Sir 
Walter's profound idea — ^that Reynolds' notions on sculpture 
have been discredited by latter-day achievements. Neverthe- 
less, the past century has produced a considerable and genuine 
art, which, without roots in the past, has presumed to despise, 
or remained indifferent to it. Of sincerity, it has so much as 
may be wedded to shallowness; of beauty, either a raw, a 
narrow, or a perverse perception ; but it has vigour, hardihood, 
and sometimes the charm of efirontery. Its methods are 
rough and ready and its instinct advertisement. In Courbet 
we have it simple, ignorant, honest ; in Manet, impudent and 
sprightly ; in Claude Monet, seeking a support frx>m scientific 
thoroughness. It has since, in Paris, been carried to caricature 
extremes which have produced a clumsy echo in Germany, of 
more real efibrt than the wild-fire whimsies of the small fry 
here and elsewhere. 

Before jumping we take a run back, and he who imagines 
he can leap as high from where he stands will probably 


bring down the lath. Of like utility is that recourse to the 
past so strenuously advocated by Reynolds. The principle is 
universal. Ben Jonson advises poets often to read over the 
foregoing parts of the work in hand. May we not consider 
it a sign of sanity when we regard the human spirit as such a 
poet, and art as a half-written poem ? Shall we not have a 
sorry disappointment if its conclusion is merely novel, and not 
the fulfilment and vindication of those great things gone 
before ? Keats said he always felt as if he had read the best 
things long ago, however much their novelty had surprised 
him. No doubt it was the recognition of their kinship to 
beauty, and also to all foreknown glories, which he was thus 
quick to feel. Ah 1 if the fiinal consummation of art is to be 
novel only, then, indeed, will seers of beauty be forced to join 
in that sad wail — " Vanity, vanity, all is vanity 1 " 

So, though Sir Walter or anybody else should tell me he 
preferred Courbet, with his ignorance behind him, or Manet 
with the unseasoned painting of Goya behind him, to Gains- 
borough based on Rubens and Vandyck, or Reynolds based on 
Titian and an eclectic study of all the art he came across, I am 
content ; he may have his opinion, I mine : even as should a 
man tell me that what I call green was red, I should refer it to 
his being colour-blind ; but if he argues that he is right, and in 
so doing tries to damage the characters of those to whom with 
gratitude I look up, or distorts the meaning of their all-too- 
scanty writings, I feel a righteous indignation, and prepare 
the best defence I can for the ancients whom I love. 

I will attempt to draw a distinction between eccentricity 
and originaUty, for it is the confusion of these two ideas 
which, as it seems to me, leads many gifted persons into error. 
We may call those conceptions which rationalise and give 
purpose to human life " central " ; such arc beauty, excellence, 
perfection ; and any new discovery or creation which enhances, 
elucidates, or establishes these deserves the praise conveyed by 
the word "original"; any other novelty is necessarily more or less 
eccentric, any that makes more of a man than the excellences 


he embodies, or puts a higher value on vigour than on beauty, 
or that prizes skill and productiveness for their own sakes — ^all, 
in fine, that seek to be justified by aimless perpetual-motion 
theories. If I am right, we may say that Millet was original, 
Turner first original then eccentric, while Monet's work is 
chiefly eccentric. 

I have often thought, in reading his pages, that Sir Walter 
himself did not realise the full import of many of his pro- 
nouncements ; he so obviously put the emphasis in the wrong 
place, and seemed to suffer from what we all suffer from, not 
having the "habit of contemplating and brooding over the 
ideas of great geniuses." '^ It is impossible, in the presence of 
those great men, to think and invent in a mean manner," and 
men who do this as Reynolds did it, as Legros and Rodin have 
done — ** such men surely need not be ashamed of that fiiendly 
intercourse which ought to exist among artists, of receiving 
from the dead and giving to the living, and perhaps to those 
who are yet unborn." Sir Walter himself has some excellent 
passages unclouded by his theories, in which his energy and 
information add to our enlightenment ; and his enthusiasm for 
Gainsborough, however fashionable, would do credit to any 
man. But in a period like the present, when every unripe 
thought and every hasty judgment may be carried far and 
wide among the intellectually raw, we need to be more than 
ever self-exacting in sifting our opinions and weighing our 
words, and to remember the lesson that Swift makes his JSsop 
draw from the famous quarrel between the spider and the bee, 
in a passage which furnished an admirable critic with one of 
those texts he was in the habit of using to such happy effect : 

As for us the ancients, we are content, with the bee, to pretend to 
nothing of our own beyond our flights and our language. For the rest, what- 
ever we have got has been bj infinite labour and search, and ranging through 
eveiy comer of nature ; the difference is that, instead of dirt and poison, we 
have rather chosen to fill our hives with honej and wax ; thus Aimishing 
mankind with the two noblest of things, which are sweetness and light. 

T. Sturge Moobe. 



OF course if you ask ** the man in the street " what nation 
has done most in the way of development during the 
last deeade he will answer you readily ** The Japanese." The 
man in the street is often a thoughtful fellow, and the develop- 
ment of the Jap is obvious, taking the form of assimilation of 
Western ideas, buying top-hats, frock-coats and ironclads. 
Moreover the Jap, as a fighting man, set the example to the 
Western Powers with whom he worked on the way to Pekin. 

It is much easier to see developments at the distance of 
Japan from England; far more difficult for the man in the 
street to form a right estimate of what is passing on the other 
side of it. It is too near his nose to be in focus, and moreover 
he is in the middle of the stream of traffic — of the evolution of 
his own people — ^and has not the same opportunity of looking 
at it from the outside. Evolution is essentially one of those 
games of which the spectator sees more than the player. It is 
not impossible that a clearer view may show the Englishman 
to have developed as much as the Jap, if less obviously. One 
of his developments is that he has begun to call himself a 

You do not find the Englishman calling himself by this 
nickname a decade or so back. He has grown to adopt it by 
way of compensation to Ireland for the wrongs that Oliver 
Cromwell or Mr. Balfour did her. Ireland is not sure which. 


Her wrongs are so many that they defy analysis, and she 
accepts anything by way of compensation, without gratitude. 
Yet if Ireland, collectively by her elected mouth-pieces in 
Parliament, continues to make a vain cackling, her sons 
individually do yeoman's service for the Kingdom against 
whose Union these mouth-pieces protest, and, as Paris was 
cheaply bought at a mass, so such services are cheaply bought 
by the assumption of the name of Briton — ^as good a name as 
Englishman after all is said and done. Curiously enough, 
Scotland, though partly Celtic too, does not seem to care what 
the EngUshman calls himself, but she has shown a superior 
faculty for forgetting Cromwell and Cumberland and some 
other little historical incidents that Ireland would have held in 
everlasting remembrance. 

The chief feature, beyond question, in the Englishman's 
evolution is his recognition that he is the inheritor of a great 
estate. It is a dijfferent matter to talk in large-sounding 
phrases about an empire on which the sun never sets, and to 
realise at all adequately what these fine phrases mean. This is 
a recognition that has come to the Englishman — ^that is to say, 
the average Englishman of the educated classes — only within 
the few last years of this decade, and the man to whom, first 
of all, the Englishman is indebted for that recognition is that 
best of all his friends, ex-President Kruger. To Lord Salisbury 
and to Mr. Chamberlain we owe a great deal, to Mr. Cecil 
Rhodes perhaps we owe more, for showing us what imperial 
possibilities and imperial responsibilities mean, but by no one 
man has so much been done for the solidification of the British 
Empire, and for bringing home to every Briton (let us use the 
all-embracing term) the sense of what Empire means, as by 
Mr. ICruger, whom, nevertheless, we must deem to have done 
all this without precise knowledge of the end to which he was 
working. Some day, with or without Mr. Kruger s kindly aid, 
the Englishman would no doubt have awoke to a sense of 
what he was. It is to Mr. Kruger that he owes it that he has 
won this knowledge before the nineteenth century came to its 


close. " Oh wad some power the giftie gie us, To see ourseFs 
as others see us " — ^and Robbie Bums, looking down from his 
own particular niche in the poet's comer of Paradise, will see 
the deus ex macMna to that end, for the Englishman, in the 
Dutch figure of the exiled ex-President. 

Adequately to trace from its beginnings the evolution of 
the Englishman, it would be necessary to go back to his earliest 
historical days, when the infancy of the nation was created by 
a blend of the Anglo-Saxon with the Norman. Since that 
time, through all his days of feudalism, autocracy, revolution, 
reformation and constitutional monarchy the Englishman, be it 
said to his everlasting credit, has been capable of sacrificing 
much for an ideal. When he goes cmsading with Richard 
Yea-and-Nay, buccaneering with Drake, iconoclasting with 
Noll Cromwell, shaking the pagoda tree in the service of John 
Company, he is, in each and every incarnation, fighting for 
something more than the material rewards of victory. Even 
in the buccaneering he is something of an idealist. It is seldom 
that he realises the ideals for which he fights, but he leaves 
the realisation and the possession for his posterity. He sows 
the seed in blood and treasure ; his children reap the harvest 

Is this not really the justification and the tme motive of 
the Englishman in seeking Empire? Immediately, he gains 
the empty glory that is dearly bought, but for his sons he lays 
up an invaluable possession. His justification for possessing 
the earth is that he, more than any other, can fulfil the mandate 
to replenish it. Who shall point to a comer of the earth where 
the Englishman has proclaimed his Empire and declare that it 
is not the better for the proclamation ? There is no such place 
on the map. 

The work of his Empire, the meaning of himself and his 
work in the world, the Englishman has grown to appreciate 
only within the last decade, and mthin the last year or two of 
that decade. He has also grown, within the last few months, 
to appreciate the price that he has to pay for Empire. He is 
in the position of a man who balances his accounts at the end 


of the century, and asks himself rationally whether his expendi- 
ture is worth its objects. On the whole, the answer of the 
Englishman is a steadfast affirmative. He has said his say at 
the recent elections — Mr. Joseph Chamberlain in preference 
to Mr. Leonard Courtney. He is prepared to pay the price, 
whether in blood or treasure. In the Transvaal he has shed 
his blood, the best and bluest, even the blood royal, and his 
treasure to the degree of a shilling's income tax in the pound. 
The price is very terrible. But he is steadfastly resolved to 
pay it. It is the price of Empire, and Empire is worth the 
price. That is the way that the balance is struck by the 
" nation of shop-keepers." 

The alternative has been brought very near. When disaster 
after disaster came upon the few arms we had in South Africa, 
at the outbreak of the war, the Englishman went about the 
streets asking himself how it would feel to come down to the 
position of a third-class power. The possibility seemed to be on 
the horizon of practical politics, and it was wonderful how 
calmly, how bravely, the Englishman faced that possibility, 
even as his power of facing all kinds of music has made him 
the wonder of Europe — ^perhaps, in some measure, the wonder 
of himself. But though he accepted the possible situation 
calmly, he prepared to pay the price, even to the utmost 
farthing, that should save him from it, and he has his reward — 
a reward that has come to him in the form of the hand- 
clasps of his brother Englishmen all the world over, Canada, 
Australia, New Zealand, wherever Englishmen live, so that 
the truth is brought home to him — which yet again he had no 
means of gauging before — that Empire means not weakness, 
but strength. 

It is a truth that the EngUshman's critics were not disposed 
to let him trust in ; it is a truth that his critics themselves were 
far from realising. In the early days of that South African war 
which has let light into so many dark places, the critics were 
not slow in speaking of the British Empu-e as the " Colossus 
with feet of clay " to be overturned by the gentle pressure of 


Mr. Krugeri the great and good. Then Englishmen came from 
Canada, Englishmen came from Australia, the Princes of the 
Indian Empire (most startling apparition of all) wished to join 
the Imperial forces. It appeared that the Colossus stood on 
some solid foundation after all. The Engtishman heard a deal 
less from his critics about " the feet of clay." 

Amongst other things of which the last decade of the 
century has given the Englishman a clearer recognition is the 
attitude of the Continent towards him. Ten years ago it was 
often said that the Englishman was unpopular on the Continent 
of Europe. But did the Englishman believe it ? Not for a 
single moment He read about it in the Continental papors, 
but he said to himself '' Tush," or more likely '' Bosh. It's 
impossible that anybody can really fail to like such a good 
fellow as I am." That was his view about it. It seemed to 
him incredible, and he declined to believe it. The only people 
whose dislike he did believe in were the Americans, and it filled 
him with the most unfeigned astonishment. He could not make 
it out at all ; ascribed it to all sorts of causes, such as the teach- 
ings of the American history primers depicting all Englishmen 
as animated towards America by the sentiments of George III. 
At all events, whatever the reason, he had to believe the feet, 
and he accepted it with the greatest siurprise. Then came 
America's war with Spain. America, with scarcely less astonish- 
ment, found the Englishman to be her friend. In the mean- 
time on the Continent the attitude was sufficiently pro- 
nounced to convince the most sceptical. There was the 
German Emperor's telegram to Mr. Kruger, on the occasion 
of the Jameson raid — ^which latter was emphatically a buc- 
caneering exploit of the wrong kind — and there was the 
feeling excited by the affair Dreyfus (in which pie the English- 
man had no earthly right to put his finger as he did), and by 
the incident of Fashoda, which France would have done well 
not to raise. These things sufficed to convince even the 
Englishman — the astonishing fact became beyond question — 
that he was not popular. The reason was altogether hi4den 


from him, but the bare fact was sufficient to make him begin 
to suspect himself. 

He had no idea but that he was the best fellow in the 
world, and yet, since he found himself without a friend in that 
world, he began to ask himself whether it could be the whole 
world that was at fault, or whether there might not, after all, 
be some reason for it in himself. And in something of that 
attitude the end of the century finds him. He has not frilly 
succeeded in solving the reason of his unpopularity. He is 
inclined to think it is because he is a success where others have 
failed, and this is a very human reason for unpopularity. But 
he has a suspicion that it may not be altogether this, a 
suspicion that is fostered by the &ct that his unpopularity has 
become less patent since his pronounced success in rallying his 
brothers all over the Empire to his aid in South Africa. In 
this regard his evolution within the last decade has not been in 
the direction of solving and recognising the reason of his un- 
popularity, but in recognising its truth as a fact and suspecting 
the hitherto undreamt-of thing that the cause of it may be, 
partly at least, in himself — ^that he may not be altogether so 
pleasant a fellow as he supposed himself. It is not altogether, 
therefore, for self-edification, but in some respects even for 
humility, that his latest evolution makes. Nor is his humilia- 
tion on this account only. He is beginning to suspect of 
himself, further, that he is not quite so clever a fellow as he 
supposed. The conception by the Englishman of his un- 
popularity came to him, fortunately, at the moment, or but a 
short while before the moment, when other circumstances com- 
bined to help him to recognise that he had strength enough to 
despise that unworthy sentiment of the foreigner towards him. 
It was for a few short months only that his ** isolation " seemed 
too heavy a burden for him to bear. When, by grace of Mr. 
Kruger, he had realised the power as well as the responsibi- 
lities of Empire, he acquiesced in recognition of his ** isolation," 
as a necessity of his geographical insulation, and was wUliog to 
take his place in the world on those terms. 


As regards his suspidons, so newly aroused, of his intelli- 
gence, the Englishman, in the latest stage of evolution under 
which he is known to us, is suspicious and restless stilL He is 
dissatisfied with himself. He is almost fain to regard other 
nations, French, German and American, as before him in 
quickness of apprehension in regard of those military and 
commercial problems which, taken together, seem to contain 
all the factors of Empire and of success. It is but a seeming. 
They do not contain all the factors. There remains a residuum 
— ^that quality by which, as Lord Rosebery put it, the English- 
man ** blunders through somehow " — but the commercial and 
the military qualities are the factors most obvious, and in 
them the Enghshman grudgingly has to admit that he finds 
himself being outpaced. Germany and America are going 
faster, are more adaptable to the various circumstances, in the 
commercial race. Not a nation, according to their own 
showing, but could give points to him in the great military 
business of leading men scientifically. In one point, a detail 
that is of importance, does the Englishman still claim (and his 
claim is admitted him) a superiority — ^in the quality of the men 
to be so led — ^the material of his battle line. This is the gift 
that Heaven, in the Englishman's pious judgment, has given 
him — ^the Empire-making gift, that he possesses in greater 
measure even than Germans or Americans, whom he con- 
ceives as most nearly akin to himself of all the nations. It 
seems to him but natural that he should be in alliance with 
them and no longer in isolation; that all children of the 
common Teutonic stock have a common outlook and should 
make common cause. It is to his astonishment that other 
members of the Teutonic stock do not seem to view the 
matter with his eyes. 

The lack of intelligence, whereof his latest phase of evo- 
lution appears to make him aware, the Englishman of the 
cultured classes is recognising, and he is determined that he 
will mend the matter. His officers shall learn the game of 
war in preference to the game of polo. He is going to set 


commercial house in order, to make his adaptability to the wants 
of foreign customers compete with that of the colonial merchants 
of Germany ; he is going to sweep out the dusty comers of 
his War Office ; he is going to emulate his American cousin 
in his quicker appreciation of mechanical improvements. All 
this is very near the heart of the Englishman of average cultiure 
in his latest evolution. Unhappily the Englishman of less 
than average culture, the Englishman of the masses rather 
than of the classes — ^that is to say, the Englishman in the great 
majority — does not envisage these things at all in the same 
way. His evolution perhaps has not yet reached the phase 
in which he is able to suspect himself of a defect. On the 
gallant principle that his fathers brought from Heaven knows 
where — ^it hardly can have been Waterloo — ^that one English- 
man is worth three Frenchmen, on that principle and that 
estimate he reckons his worth in comparison with that of all 
the world besides. '' Such a thing, such a mode of action, is 
English" is, with him, but another way of saying ''such a 
thing or such a mode of action is ideally right." It leaves no 
room at all for any improvement Now this is a gallant and 
maybe an empire-making mood, but it is not the mood in 
which evolution accomplishes itself. It is the mood rather of 
stagnation, the mood of a stagnation only to be described as 
Chinese. There is danger, in the Englishman's attitude, that his 
Empire, or at least his island home, may become even like that 
of the Chinese ; but there is salvation for him from that mood 
in the suspicion of himself that has become the latest possession 
of the class of average culture. When that suspicion shall 
have permeated and leavened the mass there will be hope for 
the Englishman that he may again move on in the course of 
evolution. For the moment it is heavily arrested. It is 
blocked by the self-satisfaction of the labouring and the town 
commercial classes, by the inability of the latter to see that 
supply must be brought into agreeable relations with demand, 
by the tendency of the former to strike for more wages than 

capital can afford to give and to require a standard of comfort 
N«. 7. III. 1.— Apeil 1901 K 


in their way of living that makes them unable to compete 
with the foreign labourer who lives more simply and more 
cheaply. For the moment the Englishman of this class has no 
r^ard for the foreigner. He is in the phase of the more cul- 
tured Englishman of fifteen years ago. He disregards foreign 
competition just because it is foreign, and therefore in his eyes 
a quantity to be neglected. We may hope that a few years 
of further evolution will open his eyes as those of his more 
developed countr3anen have been opened, so that he may 
bestir himself to compete with his rivals in the game of pro- 
duction. On the other hand, in regard to the relatively 
greater cost and higher scale of comfort of the Englishman's 
living in the working class, in this regard we may expect the 
foreigner to come into an equality with him rather than he 
with the foreigner, for the tendency is for the general comfort 
of living to increase as evolution proceeds, not xHce verm, and 
one of the Englishman's legitimate reasons for self-satisfaction 
is that he cares for the housing of his working classes and that 
his soldiers have a beef-fed courage and constancy. 

A trait common to all Englishmen, irrespective of class, 
in this latest phase of evolution has been an enthusiastic 
loyalty, centred on an object that could scarcely fail to rouse 
sentiments of enthusiastic loyalty, but not entirely dependent 
on the person to whom the feeling was for the time directed. 
Throughout his history, in which a succession of different 
djmasties, many of them not directly English, have occupied 
the throne of England's monarchs, to all alike the Englishman 
has been singularly ready to render his obedience and his 
service, though obedience to another's bidding is by no means, 
nor ever has been, a trait characteristic of him. In opinion he 
demands a perfect, a Protestant, freedom ; which demand is 
among the reasons that he is not altogether a persona grata in 
the Roman Catholic countries of Europe. Yet within his own 
borders he is singularly amenable to the powers that be, from 
Crown to Parish Council and the village constable. 

The freedom that he claims for himself he is willing, within 


limits, to extend to his wife. Only the more advanced English- 
man whom we call the American permits his wife a greater 
freedom of opinion and action than the Englishman in his own 
island. Yet there are limits to the freedom, limits prescribed 
largely by a sense of humour. There is something just slightly 
ridiculous in the sex that is weaker clauning for itself equality 
with the sex that is stronger in rivalries into which the elements 
of strength, mental and physical, essentially enter. The English- 
man, for all that he may suspect himself of a want of mental 
alertness, is able to keep the claims of the woman within bounds 
by a laughter that is gentle and fatal, permitting woman at the 
same time the privUege and powers that belong of right to her 

And with all the Englishman's distrust of himself and his 
intellect compared with the perhaps quicker faculties of others, 
he is convinced nevertheless that his attitude and his outlook 
on the world are right in the main. Striking the balance of 
the mental, the moral and the material gifts, the outcome he 
finds to be satisfactory ; and his self-satisfaction he hardly seeks 
to conceal, and thereby supplies with yet another faggot the 
fire of his unpopularity on the Continent of Europe. To be 
successful, to know it and to show that you know it, this is 
perhaps after ail the head and front of his ofiending. It may 
not seem to amount to much, but it is enough, as human 
nature and human nations are constituted. It accounts for 
most of the isolation in which practically, however he may 
strive to persuade himself to the contrary, the Englishman 
lives on his island and throughout his world-wide Empire. It 
is the strength of the Englishman's position, and at tiie same 
time an added aggravation of it, that he doesn't care. 

In spite of his almost amazing loyalty, the evolution of the 
Englishman during the last decade has marched rapidly on 
democratic lines. It is a march that is due to several causes. 
The old aristocracy has descended from its pedestal and meets 
the democracy more than half way. A belted earl is a member 
of the Stock Exchange, and loses so little in caste as to hold an 


office in a Conservative government — a case typical of the 
course of events, a silent sign of the times — and he one of the 
older creation ! Of the later creations, peers are so many that 
their number must inevitably take something from the respect 
in which their class, when it was more exclusive and select, was 
held by the class below it. The middle classes see their own 
members passing into the ranks of the peerage, and rub shoulder 
to shoulder with members of the old exclusive class in city 
offices. For the cause — ^it is to be seen in the lower value of land, 
in which, for the most part, the property of the old aristocracy 
consists, together with a higher cost of living in the smart set 
which is due more to the increased transport facilities given by 
railways than to any one other cause. For the effect — ^the 
EngUshman of the middle classes has lost much of that slightly 
ridiculous, yet not altogether evil, " respect for a lord,'' which 
used to be his more or less unconscious possession, while at the 
same time a sense of his own necessity has given to the 
working man the precious belief that he is AiUy as good as his 
middle-class employer. The parvenu millionaire takes his 
place without an effort in the '^smait" society of London. 
All is no doubt for the best in the best of all possible worlds. 
At least who shall say that the aristocracy is not fiilly as well 
occupied in putting its shoulder to the wheel, even though it 
be but the wheel of a money-making machine, as in the 
Corinthian manners of life under the Regency ? Nor does it 
spare its brain and its blood in the service of government at 
home or of Empire abroad. If the Englishman of the masses 
does not *' respect a lord," as in the good dajrs of old, it 
is surely because such loss of respect is a necessity of his 
evolution, by no means because *^the lord" who is typical 
has fallen from an estate in which he was more worthy of 

HoBACE Hutchinson. 



MANY people think that life cannot be filled better than 
by whirl and excitement Tell me frankly, does this 
lend charm to life ? Life is what it is ; why should we kill 
ourselves in painting its stucco ? It would often be doing 
us a service were some one to show us the ridiculous side 
of a crowd of obligations and ambitions in which we con- 
sume ourselves, vainly. To do this thing or that because 
" everybody does it," to know everybody, to take the present 
time by the forelock, to think everybody's thoughts, to see 
what every one sees, to eat the fashionable kickshaws and 
suffer from the fashionable complwit, to reel under the pro- 
digious exertion of doing nothing — ^truly a fine object in life, 
this : the life of a circus horse or a squirrel. The world will 
regard us with admiration, maybe ; but the physician before 
whom we presently collapse after our surfeit will treat us as 

He will tell us to quit Paris and fly to the sea or the 
mountains. Stuff! 'tis not the air of Paris that ik unwhole- 
some ; what is unwholesome is its moral atmosphere. Still, I 
do find it a little hard to understand how a Parisian, constantly 
beset by risks so various, can reach manhood limb-whole, 
unmaimed. To be alive — ^that is the marvel. 

And many persons, amid these ftitile activities, pass life 
by after all without touching it JFho they were is never 


known ; you only see their gestures. In sooth, there must be 
many serious people among the clowns at the fair, judging by 
the number of clowns and fribbles among serious people. 

Not a few of the grave men I happen to meet, lawyers, 
bankers, men of business, are not really men at all ; they are 
merely lawyers, bankers, men of business. Is this happiness ? 

Mr. Rockefeller, the petroleum king, has fallen into a 
melancholy. Like Charles V., he desires to abdicate; but 
this dream is still to him a fresh soiurce of trouble and sorrow, 
for he seeks a mortal of fit mould and temper to wield the 
sceptre in his stead, and, though he scours two hemispheres, 
this mortal is nowhere discoverable. 

Will it astonish you. Madam, if I avouch that this rage of 
unrest has set its mark upon some of your sex ? Would not 
you yourself think it a slight on your reputation if you were 
even suspected of being a stay-at-home? Conversation, 
writing — ^what outworn, antiquated things ! You fling out 
your words, your notes, in the style of a trademan's list or a 
telegram ; you are seen in the paddock or the polo-field, on 
charitable committees, in presidential chairs ; since man is 
master, you think you are winning a place among the engulf- 
ing sex by adopting mannish modes wholesale. 

The most charming of women will cut, at best, but a poor 
figure as a man ; and I cannot, in truth, see what there is in 
the spectacle of the masculine hurly-burly to attract women 
who might well live in quietness. To be endlessly getting 
and spending, to turn all things to laughter and take nothing 
seriously, to be altogether insensible — oh, a fine philosophy I 
With all his wealth and titles and decorations, many a man 
comes to crawling on all fours, and even finds exceeding comfort 
in his proneness, like the good soul who, being changed into a 
swine by the enchantress Circe, refused point-blank to resume 
his former feature. But all our i*estless strivings represent in 
reality nothing but a varnish of egotism, wherefore we cannot 
desire a woman to take pleasure in them. Moreover, she would 
have to force her nature to attain an egotism so perfect Such 


egotism is very rare among you, ladies ; and often, after the 
loss of those you love has driven you within your last entrench- 
ments, it happens that Death comes, rather than Forgetfulness. 

• • • • • • 

Shall we at least find joy in the happiness of doing nothing ? 

I recognise that, for some women, there is a measure of 
practical wisdom in remaining idle. Unaccustomed to any- 
thing that can be called work, constrained often to periods of 
real enforced idleness, they prefer to avoid all serious under- 
takings, lest their activity prove mere bungling. 

This attitude of mind is familiar to many men also, if they 
have an income however small, or merely the hope of espousing 
one. They tell themselves that work brings worry, breeds 
jealousy and envy : ignorance has its art — ^the art of shining 
inexpensively ; and all you have to do for the decoration you 
covet is to unveil a statue in honour of some philosopher 
conveniently deceased. Meanwhile, it is so pleasant a 
sensation, so conducive to the peace and order of your country, 
to smoke your cigar without one thought, one desire, one 
aspiration I 

So pleasant! But stay, my dear sir, let me deal fairly 
with you : you are always doing something, even though it be 
only smoking, hunting, reading the newspaper, emitting your 
political views, riding, eating, digesting. Only, these occu- 
pations are useless to your neighbours. It is very lucky, you 
will admit, that all men do not profess the same principles of 
ideal parasitism, for then, who would give you to eat ? 

If we could but hug the assurance that wretchedness 
belongs of right to the poor, and glory to the rich, we might 
beseech the poor to batten on the odours exhaled from your 
kitchens. But no : uselessness seeks to foist itsdf as a mark of 
distinction; and vanity, often more ravenous than hunger, 
excites violent social strictures, especially among workmen of 
some intelligence, and sufi&ciently well off already to have an 
inkling of what luxury means. 

Unhappily, our progress in material things serves only to 


develop this sense of luxury, by establishing on all sides 
contacts purely material. Money, and money alone, classifies 
the passengers on the railway; we all become mere parcels, 
some in wadding, others not. We are estimated by the weight 
of our money, though that is conmionly a cause of moral 
feebleness, or at least of torpor. Will social happiness, any 
more than personal happiness, be found in this glorification of 
material indolence and the aristocracy of pleasure ? It seems 
not, judging by the jealousy that devours our whole society, 
from top to bottom. There is endless talk of solidarity, 
fraternity : that is the court dress of the present day, as were 
formerly wigs and knee-breeches. But never was egotism so 
intolerant; never, consequently, was the tedium of life so 

Men mightily deceive themselves by indulging all their life 
long the dream of an easy time — ^retirement firom business, 
quiet days of fishing, and so on; seeking a path to this 
happiness by way of a life of inelastic limitations. '' I am not 
an utter fool," a Frenchman will tell you : " As you are aware, 
I am a decent fellow, though I say so — a public servant, 
naturally, like all Frenchmen — ^a good citizen, and a member of 
no end of societies — ^academies too, I assure you. Among the 
ministers I serve, at least one out of two seems an absolute ass. 
Oh, but I serve him! Simple obedience to rule makes you 
happy ; that's the thing for peace and promotion. My wife is 
so devout that she positively does harm to religion; she is 
driving me to agnosticism: not that it really matters; in* 
deed, I recognise that in my wife's piety there is a narrow, 
slavish^ so to say utilitarian side, which it is well to inculcate 
upon women so as to silence argument and stifle thought. 
And as to work, and the money it brings in — ^well, I take just 
as much as I need. You can't imagine, dear fellow, how easy 
and familiar work becomes when you are used to it, and do it 
mechanically. It's like your morning tub, becomes a positive 
mania. When I am on holiday, getting a taste of Nature in 
my garden at Clamart, I feel quite lost, and have half a 


mind to go to the office. Still, I look forward with lively 
impatience to the goal of my life, the time for retiring. 
Talking of that, I quite envy the jar niente of my neighbour, 
a decent little retired grocer. And after all, not being miserly, 
thank Heaven, or stuck up, I do feel that money is only a 
means ; it's a good thing so far as it relieves us of exertion. 
For the most part, men only want to get rich out of sheer 
pride, just to have more than their neighbour. I myself have 
the sense to believe, like the English, that money becomes 
respectable when you begin to spend it. O the joy of doing 
nothing, and letting others slave for you ! — the delights of 
taking it easy, loafing, lolling the time away I Governments 
could never give you too much encouragement. How easy 
they make it to govern a country, and what satisfaction they 
procure for the governed themselves ! " 

That is how most of us talk. Our life is either whirl or 
stagnation. To the women who do nothing, as well as to all 
these mechanical gentlemen, to those who are enamoured of 
the world, and to persons flourishing and waxing fat, may I 
present the woman of my dream ? She has formed the habit 
of living so actively on the joys and sorrows of others, she has 
sustained, encouraged, helped others so often, shared so many 
fears and hopes, seen so much of birth and death, lived so full 
a life, that beneath her blanching hair her heart finds it 
impossible to retire from the service. It grows and grows. 
Her activity, always firuitful, brings forth ever more and more. 

A dear proof that there must be a special secret 

• ••••• 

Art has for its aim the perfection, the augmentation, of our 
sensibility to physical objects. Ccmtact with the True and the 
Useful being often void of charm, whether because the Beauti- 
ful passes ** out of range,'* as hunters say, or because the Ugly 
presses upon us somewhat too closely, art consists in creating 
for oneself a nest, a little sanctuary, an environment that one 
can love, and in presenting to us by their softer sides the 
things with which contact is inevitable. 


Therefore a womim's art consists in drawing from the most 
modest occupations a ray of beauty and of love; and the 
surest means of discovering such in those is to put it there. 

A gross error of our time is an aesthetic error. The belief 
is current that there are things which are necessarily artistic, 
which make you an artist fix>m head to heel as soon as you 
touch them, and other things which can never be artistic. 
People rush to the first, and eschew the others. They fancy 
themselves to be artists by the mere fact of their handling 
a chisel or a brush instead of a plough ; a governess, be she 
ever such a goose, thinks herself a superior person. In reality 
there are some things to which art is applied, and other things 
to which it is not applied. The art of life consists in living 
steadily, without perturbations, in doing honestly that for 
which we were bom, and in doing it with love. 

I cannot forget, for example, the singular impression pro- 
duced upon me, in a comer of the old hospital of Bruges, 
where Memlinc worked, by a group of beguines scraping 
carrots, and murmuring their prayers the while. I was leaving 
the place with a band of tourists, my eyes filled with beauty, 
my heart haunted by the exquisite visions of Memlinc : these 
placid women, not one of whom raised her head at so common- 
place an event as a stranger passing, wholly absorbed, as they 
were, in blending the love of God with the fulfilment of His 
laws, well reflected the sentiment of the painter, the living ray 
of grace. I seemed to see around them a glamour of art 

Take a woman who, fix>m an entirely difierent point of 
view, showed the same instinct for finding loveliness in 
common things — ^the celebrated Madame Roland. 

The diying of her grapes and plums, the garnering of her nuts and apples, 
the due preparation of her dried pears^ her broods of hens, her litters of rabbits, 
her frothing lye, the mending of her linen^ the ranging of her napeiy in its 
lofty presses — all these were objects of her personal, unstinted, unremitting 
care, and gave her pleasure. She was present at the viUage merrymakings 
and took her place among the dancers on the green. The country people for 
miles around sought her aid for sick fiitnds whom the doctors had given «p. 



She ranged the fields on foot and horseback to collect simples, to enrich her 
herbarium^ to complete her collections^ and would pause in delight before tufts 
of violets bordering the hedgerows bursting with the first buds of spring, or 
before the ruddy vine-clusters tremulous in the autumn breeze : for her, every- 
thing in meadow and wood had voices, everything a smile.^ 

When a woman has armed herself with this special force 
of beauty, she has done much. It only remains for her to 
nourish and propagate it : her life is a permanent work of art ; 
around her an atmosphere is naturally created, in which all 
things solicit and give play to our noblest sentiments. Ah 1 
this art is no chimera, no vain or useless thing ; it is the very 
nursery of life. Even in a cottage it smiles upon the wayfiirer, 
offering flowers to his view, teachmg him the graciousness and 
the necessity of joy. M. Guyau defines the artist as '' he who, 
simple even in his profound accomplishment, preserves in the 
gaze of the world a certain freshness of heart, and (so to say) a 
perpetual novelty of sensation." That is the impression which 
a woman should produce around her, and no tremendous exer- 
tion is needed, since the first rule is frankness and simphcity. 
Luxury tends to be hurtful. It is useless to go far afield, to 
ferret out recondite styles, to complicate, to love the affected, 
the rare, the eccentric, the languid. Let the house be a living 
and well-ordered place, where the accessory does not take pre- 
cedence of the essential, where every object has its own place 
and its specific character. Breathe into all things a sentiment 
of unity, and also, as far as possible, of spaciousness and 

In the country, respect the ancient dwelling, even though 
a little dilapidated — ^the old walls, the old fiimiture, the old 
avenue, the old church. Try to feel in presence of a living 
personality. A house is a book in stone, and, if you will, you 
may give to everything a soul, even to stones. Allow your 
own life freely to enter and pervade this ancient home. Irregu- 
larities in structure, recent additions, are all cries of existence. 
Something of your own soul thus cleaves to all these walls. 

1 O. Gr^aid. 


Is it not true that the architect of a building, the painter of a 
fresco, the carver of an arabesque, have left upon their work 
some fragments of their souls ? Their thought hovers about 
the walls. The voice of a singer causes the composer s soul to 
live again in us ; the painter, the sculptor, speak to us, serve us 
as mentors. I also, in these pages, shall leave some fragments 
of my soul, with the hope that in the shadow of my thought 
some one perchance may pray and love. 

Rich or poor, do not crowd your walls ; set on them merely 
a living and friendly note, something that is a final revelation 
of your self, an element of life — a pretty water-colour, a fine 
engraving. Is not this a thousand times better than a vulgar 
glitter, or even than tapestries ? It is you, your thought, that 
you must stamp on these walls 1 Thereby you extend and 
fortify your personal action. What recks it me whether I find 
this or that object in your drawing-room ? Am I stepping 
into a photographer's studio, or into a museum ? It is you that 
I want to see. And, to tell the truth, I do not think it very 
delightfril to see above your head your own portrait, the por- 
traits of your husband and children. The end of portraiture is 
to replace the absent ; besides, the painter or engraver strikes 
me too forcibly as interposing between you and me, and as 
indicating almost brutally how I am to understand you. 
What would happen, I wonder, if I should admire the imita- 
tion more than the original ? 

I would rather divine you, come to know you, in my own 
fashion, as the secret unity among your belongings grows upon 
me. If the visitor on entering perceives no discordant element; 
if his eye, wandering presently towards the chimney-piece or 
some other salient point, rests on a beautiful head enhaloed, as 
it were, with Christian sentiment and ideals, or on a beautiful 
Greek statue, calm, dignified, in no wise laboured or strained^ 
natural in pose and expression : at once he is at ease, his con- 
fidence is already won. 

Presently his glance will range afield; he will perceive 


some fine early Italian master, adorable in its artlessness, 
crowded with ardent ideas, and fragrant with noble aspirations: 
or, if you are touched with the unrest of life, if needs you must 
plumb the mysterious and the unknown, you will have made 
room for some Vincian vision ; or maybe for the clever and 
superficial gaieties of the French school, or the admirable 
warmth and freedom of some of our landscape painters. 

Many people indulge a taste for small canvases, because 
these will hang anywhere, go with anything, form part of the 
furniture, and suggest no manner of problem— cow-sheds, to 
wit, scoured miraculously clean, interiors all spick and span, 
kettles athrob, alive; or watery meadow lands, with grey 
trees and grey water, and clouds fretted, or far stretched-out, 
or close-packed, or flocculent. These do not tire the brain, 
they offend no one, except that, from the house-decorator's 
point of view, they are often of too superior a workmanship. 

Rembrandt is the divinity of shade, the antipodes of the 
Italian sunny expansiveness. In an impenetrable cloud he dints 
a spot of gold, which proves to be a drunkard, a beggar, a 
melancholy wight, a rotund Boniface, a needy soul, or a Jew 
from Amsterdam or BatignoUes ; or possibly himself. 

There are also the Gargantuesque old Flemish masters, 
with their phenomenal processions, their banquets open to the 
world, bubbling over with gaiety and life. 

It seems to me that in matters of art one should say raca 
to nothing ; every aesthetic impression has some use. And I 
really do not see the utility of a dispute like that which has 
been wrangled over for ages, about the relative importance of 
form and substance. Certainly there are features that are 
accidental, and others that are essential: you will choose 
according to your taste. The arts of design have no title to 
govern your soul ; it is your part to govern and make use of 
them. Do you prefer to invoke an image, or a thought ? Do 
you wish to surround yourself with the brutalities of so-called 
Truth, or with suggestions, forms which efface themselves in 
the interests of impressions or ideas ? Do you love beauty of 


form, exact outlines, well-defined contours, or a broad effect, 
a surface whose lines are lost in the ambient shade ? These 
are questions for yourself to answer. Gkx>d tools are those 
which suit you best. It is not the mission of painter or 
sculptor to reproduce a scene with mathematical precision : a 
photographer would do this better ; the artist's part is to be of 
service to you, to furnish you with the elements of the art of 
life. Indeed, it is the distinguishing mark of the artist that he 
singles out and segregates, in a crowd, in a landscape, the one 
choice object : upon this he fastens, he is alive to all its mani* 
fold nuances, and the charm is so great that around this object 
he sees nought but gloom. 

The aesthetic object does you the delightful service of 
supplementing your own visions, and of compassing you about 
with ideas. You do not inquire what it is, but what it ex- 
presses ; the cleverest of still-life pictures, like those to be seen 
in Italian houses, would give you but a very superficial pleasure. 
You need support, not illusions ; this marble, as no one knows 
better than yourself, is marble ; but it speaks to you. 

Only, the message of art needs to be properly directed. 
To catch its accents, or to make them heard, one must 
impart to it something of one's own. How wonderfully the 
meaning of things, even their most precise intellectual mean- 
ing, varies for us, day by day, through distraction or a 
change of mood ! If our mind wanders as we read a book, the 
loveliest thoughts glide over us as though over marble. A lady 
who had been stirred to enthusiasm l^ a somewhat mediocre 
book wrote asking me to recommend another which would 
produce the same effect. I told her first to fill herself with 
the same enthusiasm, and then to take down from her shelves 
any book she pleased. One day, subdued to our mechanism, 
we pass on like blind men ; the next, if our hearts are moved 
and oiu* spirits satisfied, we feel suggestion to the full, and go 
so far as to see, in a phrase or a picture, ideas which the author 
never dreamed of putting there. 

Let us not, then, be anxious to crowd our rooms with 



beautiful things; far better display things few in numb», but 
high in worth, adapted to their surroundings, and performing 
in some sort the office of the conductor of an orchestra. 

To enforce this reflection, it is enough to mention the 
irritating effect produced by certain museums. The genus 
''collection" — ^that is the rock to shun! All these hapless 
canvases, torn from their luminous, hallowed, intimate, unique 
place, are there exhibited high and dry in philosophic deso- 
lation, rootless, forlorn. At ten o'clock you have to don 
the freshness of spirit necessary to enjoy them, and doff it on 
the stroke of four or five, according to the season. Instead of 
entering a gallery with heart at rest, and seeing in the sanctuary 
the object of worship, you pull it to pieces, compare it with 
the canons, and puzzle out a needless meaning. Some good 
souls criticise the subject, others its treatment and technique ; 
and the keepers stroU about or doze in a comer. What a 
crime to despoil streets and palaces and churches, the very 
tombs, for the sake of ranging such labels in a row ! This is 
art as officialdom knows it. 

In a room of great simplicity, a single work, adapted to its 
surroundings, and excellently interpreting a woman's tastes, 
renders us a wholly different service. This is no corpse to 
anatomise. You contemplate a thing that is loved, and a 
radiance floods the place ; you forget, if only for a moment, the 
offences of life. And I maintain that the poorest woman in 
the world, if she has confidence in beauty, will always be able 
thus to fill her home with light ; she can always place in it 
some flowers or a photograph. 

You may furnish your rooms in a higher sort by adorning 
your chairs with beings who speak and act In referring to 
these familiar beings as furniture I mean no harm, but simply 
imply that they are no friends of yours, but merely accessories, 
persons who sink their own ideas and tastes. Madam, to assist 
your art with theirs. 

In this cat^^ory, musicians probably hold the first place. 


Indeed^ music pla3rs a much higher rSle in asstheticism than 
the manual arts, a rdle scarcely inferior to that of the intellectual 
arts. Like the latter, it has (so to say) no substance, appealing 
solely to the feelings ; whether we will or no, it rarely fails to 
take possession of us, though merely by tangled sensations ; 
it catches us as in a web, and does with us what it will ; it 
moves us, lulls us to sleep, stimulates us. It derives its effects 
from the relations of tone, whether with neighbouring tones 
on the scale, or with the singer and the listener. A small thing 
in itself, it is yet of capital importance: all life, all motion 
even, produces sound, from the wind and the sea upwards; 
and recourse has ever been had to soimd for the purpose of 
touching men. 

Beggars and the blind have always sung, as they do to this 
day ; song has ever been employed to console the afflicted, to 
hearten soldiers on the march, even to soothe physical pain. 

With very good reason, then, do women regard music as 
their own peculiar sphere. Thus, at the epoch of the Renais- 
sance, in the heyday of their influence, they adopted musical 
attributes in their portraits; these were, so to speak, their 

Does it beseem a woman to aim higher, and to seek to 
create aroimd her a real atmosphere of philosophy, history, 
science, poetry — in short, an intellectual atmosphere ? Yes, and 
no. If she is so reliant on her own wit and ascendency as to 
make all the personages she gathers but garniture for her soul 
or faithful radiators of her glory, mere apostles of her influence, 
yes. But no, if she has any fear of being absorbed by her 
surroundings, and reduced to the level of a landlady. 

It is often said that salons are things of the past, and the 
fact is lamented ; in truth there are no salons now, and there 
never will be again, because, what with the ambitions and 
pretensions of men, the necessities of their careers, the obliga- 
tions of the struggle for life, the present age knows little of 
the delight of allowing itself to be embodied or summed up in 
a woman. A drawing-room very soon becomes a sort of 


exchange for literary or sporting affairs, or the like. This does 
not imply that, for their own purposes, women should neglect 
intellectual resources ; but it will certainly be recognised that 
real courage is needed if they are to rise superior to tittle- 
tattle, talk of stocks or the stable, the stuff they read, the 
things they hear, Happy are the societies where one can still 
enjoy life, and think ! Happy the man who, like Monsieur 
Jourdain, makes prose without knowing it ! 

Yet, without holding a salon, women may still exercise iii 
intellectual matters a guiding influence truly indispensable. 
Instead of allowing themselves to fall a prey to puffery, clap- 
trap, or scandal, why should they not, on the contrary, treat as 
personal enemies the men who only use their undoubted 
talents to sport with them, to flaunt everywhere their nudities, 
to show off the slaves of their pleasure ? — ^why smile upon 
scribblers, geniuses of Montmartre and the Latin Quarter? 
It is self-constituted slavery to bow incessantly at the feet of 
fashion. Always the fashion! A play is bad. Don't go to 
see it, and teU people so. A poem is a medley of unintel- 
ligible catch-words, a rigmarole of sonorous nothings : have 
the courage to say that it defies comprehension and that your 
mind loves lucidity! We all need our courage: this is 
yours. Nobody wants you to shoulder a rifle : you are asked 
to read or not to read, to see or not to see. If need be, 
effect a grand spring-cleaning I You alone can destroy the 
literature of the music-hall and the casino, the trashy novelettes 
that ravage the meanest hamlets worse than alcohol. Is this 
courage beyond your strength ? Do you fancy yourself com- 
pelled, because it is a free country, to fuddle yourself on the 
vile rinsings retailed a few steps away from your dwelling? 
Why then do you nourish your spirit on tilings that no one 
would dare to retail in the open air ? Nobody would suggest 
that you should pass your life in preaching ; a light or even 
a fatuous remark is not likely to offend. But for pity's sake 
insist that people wash their hands before entering your doors. 
Many a great personage whom you invite to dinner and make 

No. 7. III. I.—April 1901 L 


much of would be wearing a livery and displaying his calves in 
your entrance-hall if he had remained an honest man. Dare 
to face and to praise things that are true and serious. Difiuse 
their fragrance around you. You are responsible for the books 
that lie about on your table. 

What a power you would have at command if you acted 
resolutely in the interests of beauty I The whole world would lay 
down its arms at yoiur feet. The sentiment of the Beautifiil 
is so strong ! ^* To fathom the dreams of poets is the true 
philosophy/' said a philosopher. ''The mind of the savant 
stops at phenomena; the soul of the poet essays a higher 
flight, his inward vision pierces to the heart of reality. If 
the final knowledge is that which attains, not the surface, 
but the foundations of being, the poet's method is the true 

Wherefore, surround yourself at any rate with men who 
have the taste for rendering life musical ; in your conversations 
encourage clear, clean, warm images, refinements of sentiment 
rather than tricks of style; spread abroad an air of gaiety, 
polish, and above all reverence. Your door is not that of a 
church, but neither is it that of a market. 

Some women have too much belief in men of distinction, 
or so reputed ; they imagine them upon a higher plane than 
they really are, and, especially, more diffictdt to reach. The 
majority of men, foolish or eminent, obscure or famous, reck 
little of grand sentiments, and are satisfied with a modicum of 
illusion or suggestion ; they are led by means quite infantile, 
provided they are carried out of themselves. 

Have you sometimes pondered our extraordinary facility 
for self-detachment whenever we perform an act of imagina- 
tion — if we are reading a novel, for instance ? We delight in 
being duped ; we want to see and hear everything, we fancy 
ourselves present at scenes where the novelist himself declares 
no one was present Thus, as has been said by a very witty 
writer, we identify ourselves so thoroughly with the adven- 
tures of Pierre Loti that on the day when the Academy 


received into its bosom M. Julien Viaud, naval officer, the 
whole assembly, though so fEustidiously select, thought they 
were really beholding M. Loti. 

The art of the novelist consists in riveting us to what he 
depicts. M. Loti, for instance, to whom I have just referred, 
has admirably painted the sea, but he has not sought to exalt 
it to a level with us ; he has lent to it neither ideas, nor will, 
sadness nor ecstasies ; but he has marvellously felt and caused 
us to feel the solemnity of its multitudinous and changeless 
life, its invincible weight, its aimless perturbation, and it is in 
this way that he has so powerfully impressed us. 

Well, your art is similar. You need not trouble about 
your merits or ours, but solely about the effect you can produce 
on us, who love to be duped. Acknowledge this as a guiding 
principle ; for it is easier to regulate illusions than realities. 

Finally, we must clearly envisage the precise duty of women, 
which is to develop their natural gifts, and boldly to adopt the 
virtues in which men are lacking. 

They are the instrument of life, one might almost say the 
magic cauldron of life. They set all its elements in fermentation. 
To transform and to impart is thdr whole concern. Scarcely 
have they opened their eyes upon the world but they must 
needs have a doll to cherish, and tend, and fondle. And they 
continue thus chmshing, tending, fondling, unless life warps 
their nature. " Their machinery," as Rousseau said, ** is admir- 
able for assuaging or exciting the passions." Theirs is a 
treasure that grows richer in the spending. Even from a 
physiological point of view, they exhibit a marvellous power of 
endurajice. They are not armed for attack; the finest natured 
are the strongest; their chords answer wonderfully to all 
appeals of sentiment ; they love money with resignation, but 
glory intoxicates them ; they live on a glance, a breath of kind- 
ness; their enthusiasm is contagious, and they shed around 
them the youth and freshness of life. So, without intention or 
effort, they are constantly bestowing their very selves, they 


clothe all things with their own enthusiasm. Science they 
vindicate by the noble fruits they obtain from it ; from thorns 
they cause roses to spring forth, and these roses in their turn 
they cultivate, giving them an added beauty and fr-agrance, and 
fresh blossoms all the seasons round. Excellent gardeners of 
the world 1 Their rdle no doubt has varied with the circum- 
stances and needs of different times ; but the urgent necessities 
of the present time serve only to accentuate it and bring it 
into higher relief. The ignorance and weakness of women 
work more real mischief than the ignorance and weakness of 
men. The passive virtues no longer avail for governing; 
active virtues are the need of to-day. 

In olden days, if men loved the king, it was because he 
belonged to them all, and represented something indispensable 
to every society, a person with no private interests, but wholly 
devoted to the interest of the public. Furthermore, he had no 
possessions entirely his own, not even a park, not even his 
palace. Now, daring as the idea may appear, let us say that 
women also can only reign on condition of communising their 
souls. Otherwise, they wDl lose all influence, even with their 
sons. A woman comes short of essential duties if she stops at 
bemoaning the evils of the times and playing patroness to good 
little schoolboys, instead of learning for herself and revealing 
to others what the evils of the times really are, of drawing out 
the manhood slumbering within us, and giving it new graces. 
She bears the burden of human joy. And a woman of 
intelligence and leisure has, in this particular, duties more 
complicated than she who milks the cows or who minds the 

She must think and love by her own energy, instead of 
bearing in her heart a thousand undeveloped sentiments. 
Her husband and her friends hunt, speculate, work, make 
havoc of their lives. Even so : she has no right to do the 
same. If she does not redeem men when she can, surely it is 
she who ruins them ? 

No difficulty will discourage her if she first fully realises 


that she possesses all that is needful for succesSj and then sets 
her responsibilities in a clear light. 

She will sometimes make mistakes ; enthusiasm itself, the 
deUcious art of giving things charm, has its perils, carrymg 
one away into the unreal, opening a loophole for illusion, day- 
dreams, prejudices, fictions. What matters it, so long as the 
tree is vigorous ? Would you fell a superb poplar because you 
noticed on it some sprigs of mistletoe ? 

A woman may also go astray in point of vanity. That is 
a pretty common folly (even among men), and very provoking 
when it is shown in questions of etiquette or dress. But why 
should we not agree that there is a noble, an excellent form of 
vanity, which consists in being thoroughly acquainted with 
the things one can love, rejoicing in the apostleship one 
exercises, and seeming success therein by cultivating diligence, 
refinement, considerateness, industry, persuasiveness ? Where 
is the harm ? 

But we need not dwell on these fears. The special goal 
of a woman's life, that in which it is distinguished from the 
life of men, is manifest : it is the great things, the things to 
be loved, the things which do not " pay.'* Man serves money. 
You make it your servant, ladies, and you must aim higher, at 
the things that are not bought and sold; attachments, real 
fiiendships — ^those are your speculations. Be faithful to your 
aim. In faithfulness is redemption. 

A moment I As I bow to you, I seem to see on my wall, 
in place of a modem paper, a grand fresco of long ago, an 
exquisite symbol of your reign : the Angel from Heaven, kneel- 
ing in humble adoration before the spotless Motherhood, 
proclaiming that from your devotion shall proceed the welfare 
of mankind. The scene is simple and sweet, the colour 
serene: a closed room, a curtain hanging, barely a glimpse 
of the sky. 

R. D£ Maulde. 


rpiHIS is the month, when in the world's young day 
-^ The shepherd tribes, fix)m caves and wattled bields, 
Lured by the verdure of the virgin fields, 
Drove forth their flocks and sought a westward way, 
And when the Liordlings of the sea, that lay 
Besieged by winter, wearying upon land, 
Drew down their ships with shouts along the sand 
And launched to wild adventure through the spray. 

Sq longings, as of migrant birds, each spring 
Bid us, their children, leave our fireside ease, — 
Cross Oceans, brave fierce deserts, wage strange wars. 
Float iceberg-borne in the dim Polar seas. 
Dare the undared, — and seek on perilous wing 
The glistening Eldorado of the stars. 

Ethel Wedgwood, 


By Anthony Hope 



" XT'OU haven't mentioned it to the young man himself?" 

JL asked Lady Evenswood. 

"Certainly not. I've only seen him once, and then he 
didn't talk of his own affairs. He takes the thing very well. 
He's lost his position and he's the hero of the newspapers, and 
he bears both afflictions quite coolly. A lad of good balance, I 

" Is he agreeable ? " 

" Hum, I'm not sure of that. No excess of modesty, I 

" I suppose you mean he's not shy ? All young men are 
conceited. I think I should like you to bring him to see me." 

For forty years such an intimation from Lady Evenswood 
had enjoyed the rank of a command ; Lord Southend received 
it with proper obedience. 

•* The solution I spoke of has occurred to some of us," he 
went on. " He's poor now, but with that he could make a 
marriage. The case is very exceptional " 

V Copyright 1900 hj A H. Hawkins in the U.S.A. All rights strictly 


" So is what you propose, George ? " 

'' Oh, there are precedents. It was done in the Bearsdale 

" There was a doubt there." Lady Evenswood knew aU 
about the Bearsdale case; though it was ancient history to 
Southend, she had danced with both the parties to it 

** The House was against the marriage unanimously." But 
he did not deny the doubt. 

" Well, what are you going to do ? " she asked. 

" It would be necessary to approach Disney." Southend 
spoke with some appearance of timidity. Mr. Disney was 
Prime Minister. " And the truth is, none of us seemed to 
like the job. So John Fullcombe suggested you." 

" What brave men you are ! " Her face wrinkled hiunor- 

" Well, he might bite us, and he couldn't bite you — not so 
hard, anyhow." 

** And you want me to ask for a higher rank 1 That wasn't 
done in the Bearsdale case, nor in any other that I ever 
heard of." 

" We shouldn't press that. A barony would do. But if 
Disney thought that under the very exceptional circumstances 
a viscounty " 

" I don't see why you want it," she persisted. The slight 
embarrassment in Southend's manner stirred the old lady's 
curiosity. " It's rather odd to reward a man for his mother's 

. There, I don't say a word about Addie. I took her to 

her first ball, poor girl." 

'* Disney used to know her as a girl." 

" If you're relying on Robert Disney's romantic memories 

" But she stopped, adding after a pause, "Well, one 

never knows. But again, why a viscoimty ? " 

Driven into a comer, but evidently rather ashamed of him- 
self, Southend explained. 

" The viscounty would be more convenient if a match 
came about between him and the girl." 


" What, the new Lady Tristram ? Well, George, romance 
has taken possession of you to-day I " 

" Not at all," he protested indignantly. " It's the obviously 
sensible way out." 

" Then they can do it without a viscounty." 

" Oh no, not without something. There's the past, you see." 

'' And a sponge is wanted ? And the bigger the sponge the 
better ? And I'm to get my nose bitten off by asking Robert 
Disney for it ? And if by a miracle he said yes, for all I know 
somebody else might say no I " 

This dark reference to the Highest Quarters caused South- 
end to nod thoughtfully : they discussed the probable attitude 
— ^a theme too exalted to be more than mentioned here. 
"Anyhow, the first thing is to sound Disney," continued 

" I'll think about it after I've seen the young man," Lady 
Evenswood promised. ** Have you any reason to suppose he 
likes his cousin ? " 

" None at all — except, of course, the way he's cleared out 
for her." 

" Yielding gracefully to necessity, I suppose ? " 

" Really I doubt the necessity ; and anyhow the graceful- 
ness needs some explanation in a case like this. Still I always 
fancied he was going to marry another girl, a daughter of a 
friend of mine — I ver — ^you know who I mean ? " 

"Oh yes. Bring Harry Tristram to see me," said she. 
" Good-bye, George. You're looking very well." 

" And you're looking very young." 

" Oh, I finished getting old before you were forty." 

A thought struck Southend. '' You might suggest the 
viscounty as contingent on the marriage." 

" I shan't suggest anything till I've seen the boy — and I 
won't promise to then." 

Later in the afternoon Southend dropped in at the Imperium, 
where to his surprise and pleasure he found Iver in the smoking- 
room. Asked how he came to be in town, Iver explained : 


** I really ran away from the cackling down at Blentmouth. 
All our old ladies are talking fifteen to the dozen about Hairy 
Tristram, and Lady Tristram, and me, and my family, and — 
well, 1 daresay you're in it by now, Southend. There's an 
old cat named Swinkerton, who is positively beyond human 
endurance ; she waylays me in the street. And Mrs. Trumbler, 
the vicar's wife, comes and talks about Providence to my poor 
wife every day. So I fled." 

** Leaving your wife behind, I suppose ? " 

" Oh, she doesn't mind Mrs. Trumbler. But I do." 

'' Well, there's a good deal of cackUng up here too. But 
tell me about the new girl." Lord Southend did not appear to 
consider his own question ^' cackling " or as tending to produce 
the same. 

** I've only seen her once. She's in absolute seclusion and 
lets nobody in except Mina Zabriska — a funny little foreign 
woman — You don't know her." 

** I know about her, I saw it in the paper. She had some* 
thing to do with it ? " 

"Yes." Iver passed away from that side of the subject 
immediately. " And she's struck up a friendship with Cecily 
Gainsborough — Lady Tristram, 1 ought to say. I had a few 
words with the father. The poor old chap doesn't know 
whether he's on his head or his heels ; but as they're of about 
equal value, I should imagine, for thinking purposes, it 
doesn't much matter. Ah, here's Nedd. He came up 
with me." 

The advent of Neeld produced more discussion. Yet 
Southend said nothing of the matter which he had brought to 
Lady Evenswood's attention. Discretion was necessary there. 
Besides, he wished to know how the land lay as to Janie Iver. 
On that subject his friend preserved silence. 

"And tlie whole thing was actually in old Joe's diary 1" 
exclaimed Southend. 

Neeld, always annoyed at the ''Joe," admitted that the 
main facts had been recorded in Mr. Cholderton's Journal and 


that he himself had known them when nobody else in England 
did — ^save, of course, the conspirators themselves. 

" And you kept it dark ? I didn't know you were as deep 
as that, Neeld." He looked at the old gentleman with great 

'' Xeeld was in an exceedingly difficult position/' said Iver. 
''I've come to see that" He paused, looking at Southend 
with an amused air. ** You introduced us to one another," he 
reminded him with a smile. 

"Bless my soul, so I did I I'd forgotten. Well, it seems 
my fate too to be mixed up in the affair." Just at present, 
however, he was assisting fate rather actively. 

" It's everybody's. The Blent's on fire fit)m Mingham to 
the sea." 

" I've seen Harry Tristram." 

" Ah, how is he ? " asked Neeld. 

"Never saw a young man more composed in all my life. 
And he couldn't be better satisfied with himself if he turned 
out to be a duke." 

We know Harry's airs," Iver said, smiling indulgently. 
But there's stuff in him." A note of regret came into his 
voice. "He treated me very badly — I know Neeld won't 
admit it, but he did. Still I like him and I'd help him if I 

" Well, he atoned for anything wrong by owning up in the 
end," remarked Southend. 

" That wasn't for my sake or for — Well, it had nothing 
to do with us. As far as we were concerned he'd be at Blent 
to-day. It was Cecily Gainsborough who did it" 

" Yes. I wonder " 

Iver rose decisively. "Look here, Southend, if you're 
going to do exactly what all my friends and neighbours, 
beginning with Miss Swinkerton, are doing, I shall go and 
write letters." With a nod he walked into the next room, 
leaving Neeld alone with his inquisitive Mend, Southend lost 
no time. 



What's happened about Janie Iver? There was some 




"It's all over/' whispered Neeld with needless caution. 
" He released her, and she accepted the release." 

" What, on the ground that ? " 

*' Really I don't know any more. But it's finally over ; you 
may depend upon that." 

Southend lit a cigar with a satisfied air. On the whole he 
was glad to hear the news. 

'' Staying much longer in town ? " he asked. 

" No, I'm going down to Iver's again in August." 

" You want to see the end of it ? Come, I know that's it 1 " 
He laughed as he walked away. 

Meanwhile Harry Tristram, unconscious of the efforts 
which were being made to arrange his ftiture and paying as 
little attention as he could to the buzz of gossip about his 
past, had settled down in quiet rooms and was looking at the 
world from a new point of view. He was in seclusion like his 
cousin; the mourning they shared for Addie Tristram was 
sufficient excuse ; and he found his chief pleasure in wandering 
about the streets. The season was not over yet, and he liked 
to go out about eig:ht in the evening and watch the great city 
starting forth to enjoy itself. Then he could feel its life in all 
the rush and the gaiety of it. Somehow now he seemed more 
part of it and more at home in it than when he used to run up 
for a few days from his country home. Then Blent had been 
the centre of his life, and in town he was but a stranger and a 
sojoiu'ner. Blent was gone ; and London is home to homeless 
men. There was a suggestion for him in the air of it, an 
impulse that was gradually but strongly urging him to action, 
telling him that he must begin to do. For the moment he was 
notorious, but the talk and the staring would be over soon — 
the sooner the better, he added most sincerely. Then he must 
do something if he wished still to be, or ever again to be, 
anybody. Otherwise he could expect no more than to be 
pointed out now and then to the curious as the man who had 


once been Tristram of Blent and had ceased to be such in a 
puzzling manner. 

As he looked back, he seemed to himself to have lived 
hitherto on the banks of the river of life as well of the river 
Blent ; there had been no need of swimming. But he was in 
the current now ; he must swim or sink. This idea took shape 
as he watched the carriages, the lines of scampering hansoms, 
the crowds waiting at theatre doors. Every man and every 
vehicle, every dandy and every lU'chin, represented some effort, 
if it were only at one end of the scale to be magnificent, at the 
other not to be hungry. No such notions had been fostered by 
days spent on the banks of the Blent. " What shall I do ? 
What shall I do ? " The question hummed in his brain as he 
walked about. There were such infinite varieties of things to 
do, such a multitude of people doing them. To some men 
this reflection brings despair or bewilderment ; to Harry (as 
indeed Lord Southend would have expected from his observa- 
tion of him) it was a titillating evidence of great opportunities, 
stirring his mind to a busy consideration of chances. Thus 
then it seemed as though Blent might fall into the background, 
his loved Blent. Perhaps his not thinking of it had begun in 
wilfulness, or even in fear ; but he found the rule he had made 
far easier to keep than he had ever expected. There had been 
a sort of release for his mind ; he had not foreseen this as a 
possible result of his great sacrifice. He even felt rather 
richer ; which seemed a strange paradox, till he reflected that 
the owners of Blent had seldom been able to lay hands 
readily on a fluid sum of fifteen thousand pounds, subject 
to no claims for houses to be repaired, buildings to be main- 
tained, cottages to be built, wages to be paid, and the 
dozen other ways in which money disperses itself over the 
surface of a landed estate. He had fifteen thousand pounds 
in form as good as cash. He was living more or less as 
he had once meant to live in this one particular; he was 
living with a respectable if not a big cheque by him, ready 
for any emergency which might arise — ^an emergency not 


now of a danger to be warded off, but of an opportunity to be 

These new thoughts suited well with the visit which he 
paid to Lady Evenswood and gamed fresh strength from it. 
His pride and independence had made him hesitate about 
going. Southend, amazed yet half admiring, had been obliged 
to plead, reminding him that it was not merely a woman nor 
merely a woman of rank who wished to make his acquaintance, 
but also a very old woman who had known his mother as a 
child He further offered his own company, so that the inter- 
view might assume a less formal aspect. Harry declined the 
company but yielded to the plea. He was announced as Mr. 
Tristram. He had just taken steps to obtain a Royal Licence 
to bear the name. Southend had chuckled again half-admu*- 
ingly over that. 

Although the room was in deep shadow and very still, and 
the old white-haired lady the image of peace, for Harry there 
too the current ran strong. Though not great, she had known 
the great ; if she had not done the things, she had seen them 
done ; her talk revealed a matter-of-course knowledge <rf secrets, 
a natural intimacy with the inaccessible. It was like Harry 
to show no signs of being impressed ; but very shrewd eyes 
were upon him, and his impassivity met with amused approval 
since it stopped short of inattention. She broke it down at 
last by speaking of Addie Tristram. 

^^ The most fascinating creature in the world," she said. 
" I knew her as a little girl. I knew her up to the time of 
your birth almost. After that she hardly left Blent, did she ? 
At least she never came to London. You travelled, I know." 

" Were you ever at Blent ? " he asked. 

" No, Mr. Tristram." 

He frowned for a moment ; it was odd not to be able to 
ask people there, just too as he was awaking to the number of 
people there were in the world worth asking. 

" There never was anybody in the world like her, and there 
never will be," Lady Evenswood went on. 


" I used to think that ; but I was wrong." The smile that 
Mina Zabriska knew came on his face. 

" You were wrong ? Who's like her then ? " 

" Her successor. My cousin Cecily's very like her." 

Lady Evenswood was more struck by the way he spoke 
than by the meaning of what he said She wanted to say 
** Bravo " and te pat him on the back ; he had avoided so 
entirely any hesitation or affectation in naming his cousin — 
Addie Tristram's successor who had superseded him. 

** She talks and moves and sits and looks at you in the same 
way. I was amazed to see it." He had said not a word of 
this to anybody since he left Blent Lady Evenswood, study- 
ing him very curiously, began to make conjectures about the 
history of the affair, also about what lay behind her visitor's 
composed face ; there was a hint of things suppressed in his 
voice. But he had the bridle on himself again in a moment. 
" Very curious these likenesses are," he ended with a shrug. 

She decided that he was remarkable, for a boy of his age, 
bred in the country, astonishing. She had heard her father 
describe Pitt at twenty-one and Byron at eighteen. Without 
making absurd comparisons, there was, all the same, something 
of that precocity of manhood here, something also of the arro- 
gance that the great men had exhibited. She was very glad 
that she had sent for him. 

" I don't want to be impertinent," she said (she had not 
meant to make even this much apology), '' but perhaps an old 
woman may tell you that she is very sorry for — ^for this turn in 
your fortimes, Mr. Tristram." 

" You're very kind. It was all my own doing, you know. 
Nobody could have touched me." 

" But that would have meant ? " she exclaimed, startled 

into candour. 

" Oh yes, I know. Still — ^but since things have turned out 
differently I needn't trouble you with that." 

She saw the truth, seeming to learn it from the set of his 
jaw. She enjoyed a man who was not afraid to defy things. 


and she had been heard to lament that everybody had a 
conscience nowadays — nay, insisted on bringing it even into 
politics. She wanted to hear more — much more now — about 
his surrender, and recognised as a new tribute to Harry the 
fact that she could not question him. Immediately she con- 
ceived the idea of inviting him to dinner to meet Mr. Disney ; 
but of course that must wait for a little while. 

"Ever3rthing must seem rather strange to you," she 

"Yes, very," he answered thoughtfully. "I'm beginning 
to think that some day I shall look back on my boyhood with 
downright incredulity. I shan't seem to have been that boy in 
the least" 

" What are you going to do in the meantime, to procure 
that feeling?" She was getting to the point she wished to 
arrive at, but very cautiously. 

" I don't know yet It's hard to choose." 

" You certainly won't want for friends." 

" Yes, that's pleasant, of cotu-se." He seemed to hint, how- 
ever, that he did not regard it as very useful. 

" Oh, and serviceable too," she corrected him, with a nod of 
wise experience. " Jobs are frowned at now, but many great 
men have started by means of them. Robert Disney himself 
came in for a pocket-borough." 

" Well, I really don't know," he repeated thoughtfully, but 
with no sign of anxiety or fretting. " There's lots of time. 
Lady Evenswood." 

" Not for me," she said with all her graciousness. 

He smiled again, this time cordially, as he rose to take 
leave. But she detained him. 

" You're on friendly terms with your cousin, 1 suppose ? " 

" Certainly, if we meet Of course I haven't seen her since 
I left Blent She's there, you know." 

" Have you written to her ? " 

" No. I think it's best not to ask her to think of me just 


She looked at him a moment, seeming to consider. 

"Perhaps," she said at last "But don't over-do that. 
Don't be cruel." 

" Cruel ? " There was strong surprise in his voice and on 
his face. 

" Yes, cruel. Have you ever troubled to think what she 
may be feeling ? " 

" I don't know that I ever have," Harry admitted slowly. 
" At first sight it looks as if I were the person who might be 
supposed to be feeling." 

" At first sight, yes. Is that always to be enough for you, 
Mr. Tristram ? If so, I shan't regret so much that I haven't — 
lots of time." 

He stood silent before her for several seconds. 

" Yes, I see. Perhaps. I daresay I can find out something 
about it After all I've given some evidence of consideration 
for her." 

" That makes it worse, if you give none now. Good-bye." 

" It's less than a fortnight since I first met her. She won't 
miss me much. Lady Evenswood." 

" Time's everything, isn't it ? Oh, you're not stupid 1 
Think it over, Mr. Tristram. Now good-bye. And don't 
conclude I shan't think about you because it's only an hour 
since we met We women are curious. When you've nothing 
better to do itil pay you to study us." 

As Harry walked down from her house in Green Street, 
his thoughts were divided between the new life and that old 
one which she had raised before his eyes by her reference to 
Cecily. The balance was turned in favotu* of Blent by the 
sight of a man who was associated in his mind with it — Sloyd, 
the house-agent who had let Merrion Lodge to Mina Zabriska. 
Sloyd was as smart as usual, but he was walking along in a 
dejected way, and his hat was unfashionably far back on his 
head. He started when he saw Harry approaching him. 

" Why, it's '' he began, and stopped in evident hesita- 

No. 7. III. L— Afril 1901 m 



" Mr. Tristram/' said Harry. " Glad to meet you, Mr. Sloyd, 
though you won't have any more rent to hand over to me." 

Sloyd began to murmur some rather flowery condolences. 

Harry cut hun short in a peremptory but good-natured 

How's business with you ? " he asked. 
Might be worse, Mr. Tristram. I don't complain. 
We're a young firm, and we don't command the opportunities 
that others do." He laughed as he added, *<You couldn't 
recommend me to a gentleman with ten thousand pounds to 
spare, could you, Mr. Tristram ? " 

" I know just the man. What's it for ? " 

'' No, no. Principals only," said Sloyd with a shake of his 

'' How does one become a principal, then ? I'll walk your 
way a bit." Harry lit a cigar ; Sloyd became more erect, and 
amended the position of his hat ; he hoped that a good many 
people would recognise Harry. Yet social pride did not inter- 
fere with business wariness. 

'' Are you in earnest, Mr. Tristram ? It's a safe thing." 

" Oh no, it isn't, or you wouldn't be hunting for ten thou- 
sand on the pavement of Berkeley Square." 

''I'll trust you," Sloyd declared. Harry nodded thanks, 
inwardly amused at the obvious efibrt which attended the con- 
cession. " If you don't come in, you'll not give it away ? " 
Again Harry nodded. '' It's a big chance, but we haven't got 
the money to take it, and unless we can take it we shall have 
to sell our rights. It's an option on land. I secured it, but 
it's out in a week. Before then we must table twenty thou- 
sand. And ten cleans us out." 

" What'U happen if you don't ? " 

*' I must sell the option — ^rather than forfeit it, you know. 
I've an ofier for it, but a starvation one." 

"Who from?" 

After a moment's scrutiny Sloyd whispered a name of 
immense significance in such a connection : " Iver." 




'' I should like to hear some more about this. It's worth 
something, I expect, if Iver wants it. Shall I go with you to 
your office ? " He hailed a passing cab. '' I Ve got the 
money," he said, ^^ and I want to use it. You show me that 
this is a good thing, and in it goes." 

An hour passed in the office of Sloyd, Sloyd, and Gumey. 
Harry Tristram came out whistling. He looked very pleased ; 
his step was alert ; he had found something to do, he had made 
a beginning — ^good or bad. It looked good : that was enough. 
He was no longer an idler or merely an onlooker. He had 
begun to take a hand in the game himself. He foimd an 
added, perhaps a boyish, pleasure in the fact that the affair was 
for the present to be a dead secret. He was against Iver, too, 
in a certain sense, and that was another spice ; not from any 
ill-will, but because it would please him especially to show Iver 
that he could hold his own. It occiurred to him that in case of 
a success he would enjoy going and telling old Lady Evens- 
wood about it. He felt, as he said to himself, very jolly, 
careless and jolly, more so than he remembered feeling for 
many months back. Suddenly an idea struck him. Was it in 
whole or in part because there was no longer anything to hide, 
because he need no longer be on the watch ? He gave this 
idea a good deal of rather amused consideration, and came to 
the conclusion that there might be something in it. He went 
to the theatre that night, to the pit (where he would not be 
known), and enjoyed himself immensely. 

And Lady Evenswood had made up her mind that she 
would find a way of seeing Mr. Disney soon, and throw out a 
cautious feeler. Everjrthing would have to be done very care- 
foUy, especiaUy if the marriage with the cousin were to be 
made a feature of the case. But her resolve, although not 
altered, was hampered by a curious feeling to which her talk 
with Harry had given rise. There was now not only the very 
grave question whether Robert Disney — ^to say nothing of 
Somebody Else — ^would entertain the idea. There was 
another, a much less obvious one — ^whether Harry himself 


would welcome it. And a third — whether she herself would 
welcome it for him. However, when Southend next called on 
her, she professed her readiness to attack, or at least to recon- 
noitre, the task from which he and John FuUcombe and the 
rest had shrunk. 

" Only," she said, " if I were you, I should find out toler- 
ably early — ^as soon as we know that there's any chance at all 
— what Mr. Tristram himself thinks about it." 

*' There's only one thing he could think ! " exclaimed 
Southend. " Oh, very well," smiled Lady Evenswood. 

A long life had taught her that only facts convince, and 
that they often faiL 



The Blent was on fire indeed, and Mina Zabriska occupied a 
position rich in importance, prolific of pleasure. Others, such 
as Iver and Miss S., might meet Mr. Gainsborough as he took 
timid rambles ; they could extort little beyond a dazed civility. 
Others, again, such as Janie Iver and Bob Broadley, might 
comfort themselves with the possession of a secret and the 
conviction that they too could produce a fair sensation when 
the appropriate (and respectable) time arrived ; for the present 
they commanded no public interest Others again, the Major 
notably, strove after importance by airs of previous knowledge 
and hints of undisclosed details. Even Mrs. Trumbler made 
her cast, declaring that she had always known (the source of 
the information was left in obscurity) that pride such as Harry 
Tristram's was the sure precursor of a fall. None of them 
could compete with Mina Zabriska. To her alone the doors 
of Blent were open ; she held exclusive right of access to its 
hidden mistress. The fact caused unmeasured indignation, the 
reason excited unresting curiosity. This state of things ought 


to have made Mina very happy. What more could woman 
want ? 

One thing only, but that a necessity — somebody to talk to 
about it. She had nobody. Janie showed no desire to discuss 
Blent or anything or anybody connected therewith, and Janie 
out of the question there was nobody to whom loyalty allowed 
her to talk. The Major, for instance, was one of the enemy. 
She might pity him as an uncle — he was perplexed and stu-ly^ 
because somehow he never happened to meet Miss Iver now — 
but she could not confide in him. The gossips of Blentmouth 
were beneath her lordly notice. She was bubbling over with 
undiscussed impressions. And now even Mr. Neeld had gone 
off on a visit to town I 

Yet things needed talking about, hammering out, the light 
of another mind thrown upon them ; for they were very difficult. 
There was no need to take account of Mr. Gainsborough ; as 
long as he could be kept in the library and out of the one 
curiosity shop which was to be found in Blentmouth, he could 
not do himself or the house much harm. He was still bewil- 
dered, but by no means unhappy, and he talked constantly of 
going back to town to see about everything — ^to-morrow. There 
was nothing to see about — the lawyers had done it all — and he 
was no more necessary or important in London than he was at 
Blent. But Cecily's case was another matter altogether, and it 
was about her that Mina desired the enlightening contact of 
mind with mind, in order to canvass and explain the incon- 
gruities of a behaviour which conformed to no rational or 
consistent theory. 

Cecily had acquieseed in all the lawyers did, had signed 
papers at request, had allowed herself to be invested with the 
property, saluted with the title, enthroned in the fullest manner. 
So far then she had accepted her cousin's sacrifice and the 
transformation of her own life. Yet through and in spite of all 
this she maintained, even to the extreme of pimctiliousness, the 
air of being a visitor at Blent. She was not exactly apologetic to 
the servants, but she thanked them profusely for any special 


personal service they might perform for her; she made no 
changes in the order of the household ; when Mina — always 
busy in her friend's interest — ^suggested re-arrangement of 
furniture or of curios, Cecily's manner implied that she was 
prepared to take no such liberties in another man's house. It 
would have been all very well-bred if Harry had put his house 
at her disposal for a fortnight. Seeing that the place was her 
own, and that she had accepted it as being her own, Mina 
declared that her conduct was little less than an absurdity. 
This assertion was limited to Mina's own mind ; it had not 
been made to the offender herself. The fear she had felt of 
Harry threatened to spread to his successor ; she did not feel 
equal to a remonstrance. But she grew gradually into a state 
of extreme irritation and impatience. This provisional, this 
ostentatiously provisional, attitude could not be maintained 
permanently. Something must happen one way or the other. 
Now what was it to be ? She could not pretend to guess. 
These Tristrams were odd folk. There was the same blood in 
Cecily as had run in Addie Tristram's veins. On the other 
hand, the Gainsboroughs seemed to have been ordinary. Was 
this period of indecision or of suspended action a time of struggle 
between the Tristram in Cecily and the Gainsborough ? Mina 
on the look-out for entertainment, had no doubt which of the 
two she wished to be victorious ; the Gainsborough promised 
nothing, the Tristram — well — effects ! The strain made Mina 
excited, restless, and at times exceedingly short with Major 

The neighbourhood waited too, but for the end of Lady 
Tristram's mourning, not of her indecision. As a result of 
much discussion, based on many rumours and an incredible 
number of authentic reports, it was settled that at the end of 
six months Blent was to be thrown open, visitors received, and 
a big house-warming given. A new era was to begin. Splen- 
dour and respectability were to lie down together. Blent was 
to pay a new homage to the proprieties. Miss Swinkerton was 
strongly of opinion that bygones should be allowed to be 


bygones, and was author of a theory which found much accept- 
ance among the villas — ^namely, that Lady Tristram would 
consider any reference to her immediate predecessor as incon- 
siderate, indeed indelicate, and not such as might be expected 
to proceed from ladylike mouths. 

** We must remember that she's a girl, my dear," Miss S. 
observed to Mrs. Trumbler. 

^^ She must know about it," Mts. Trumbler suggested. 
" But I daresay you're right. Miss Swinkerton." 

*^ If such a thing had happened in my family, I should con- 
sider myself personally afironted by any reference to the persons 

*^ The Vicar says he's sadly afraid that the notions of the 
upper classes on such subjects are very lax." 

** Not at all," said Miss S. tartly. Really she needed no 
instruction from the Vicar. ^* And as I say, my dear, she's a 
girl. The ball will mark a new departure. I said so to Madame 
Zabriska, and she quite agreed with me." 

Mrs. Trumbler frowned pensively. " I suppose Madame 
Zabriska has been a widow some time ? " she suggested. 

" I have never inquired," said Miss S. with an air of expect- 
ing applause for a rare discretion. 

" I wonder what Mr. Harry will do ! The Vicar says he 
must be terribly upset" 

" Oh, I never professed to understand that young man. All 
I know is that he's going abroad." 

** Abroad ? " 

" Yes, my dear. I heard it in the town, and Madame 
Zabriska said she had no doubt it was correct." 

" But surely Madame Zabriska doesn't correspond ? " 

*^ 1 don't know, my dear. I know what she said." She 
looked at Mrs. Trumbler and went on with emphasis : *' It 
doesn't do to judge foreigners as we should judge oiu-selves. 
If I corresponded with Mr. Tristram it would be one thing ; 
if Madame Zabriska — and to be sure she has nobody to look 
after her ; that Major is no better than any silly young man — 


chooses to do so, it's quite another. All I say is that, so far as 
Blent is concerned, there's an end of Mr. Tristram. Why, he 
hasn't got a penny piece, my dear." 

" So I heard," agreed Mrs. Trumbler. " I suppose they 
won't let him starve." 

" Oh, arrangements are made in such cases," nodded Miss S. 
** But of course, nothing is said about them. For my part, I 
shall never mention either Mr. Tristram or the late Lady Tris- 
tram to her present ladyship." 

Mrs. Trumbler was silent for a while; at last her mouth 
spoke the thoughts of her heart 

*' I suppose she'll be thinking of marrying soon. But I 
don't know anybody in the neighbourhood " 

" My dear, she'll have her house in town in the season. 
The only reason the late Lady Tristram didn't do so was — 
well, you can see that for yourself, Mrs. Trumbler ! " 

" What must the Ivers think about it ? What an escape ! 
How Providential ! " 

'' Let us hope it'll be a lesson to Janie. If I had allowed 
myself to think of position or wealth, I should have been 
married half a dozen times, Mrs. Trumbler." 

" I daresay you would," said faithful Mrs. Trumbler. But 
this assent did not prevent her from remarking to the Vicar 
that Miss S. sometimes talked of things which no unmarried 
woman could be expected really to understand. 

It will be observed that the Imp had been alleviating the 
pangs of her own perplexity by a dexterous ministering to the 
delusions of others. Not for the world would she have contra- 
dicted Miss S.'s assertions ; she would as soon have thought of 
giving that lady a plain and unvarnished account of the late 
Monsieur Zabriska's very ordinary and quite reputable life and 
death. No doubt she was right. Both she and the neighbour- 
hood had to wait, and her efforts did something to make the 
period more bearable for both of them. The only sufferer was 
poor Mr. Gainsborough, who was driven from Blentmouth and 
the curiosity shop by the sheer terror of encountering ladies 


from villas who told him all about what his daughter was going 
to do. 

The outbreak came, and in a fashion as Tristramesque as 
Mina could desire, for all that the harbinger of it was frightened 
little Mr. Gainsborough, more frightened still. He came up 
the hill one evening about six, praying Mina's immediate 
presence at Blent Something had happened, he explained, as 
they walked down, Cecily had had a letter — ^from somebody 
in London. No, not Harry. She must see Mina at once. 
That was all he knew except that his daughter was perturbed 
and excited. His manner protested against the whole thing 
with a mild despair. 

' " Quick, quick," cried the Imp, almost making him run to 
keep up with her impatient strides. 

Cecily was in her room — ^the room that had been Addie 

" You've moved in here ! " was Mina's first exclamation. 

" Yes ; the housekeeper said I must, so I did. But " 

She glanced up for a moment at Addie's picture and broke 
off. Then she held up a letter which she had in her 
hand. " Do you know anything of Lord Southend ? " she 

" I've heard Mr. Iver and Mr, Neeld speak of him. That's 

" He writes to say he knew Lady Tristram and — and Harry, 
and hopes he'U know me soon." 

" That's very friendly." Mina thought, but did not add, 
that it was rather unimportant 

" Yes, but it's more than that. Don't you see ? It's an 
opening." She looked at her friend, impatient at her want of 
comprehension. ** It makes it possible to do something. I 
can begin now." 

'* Begin what ? " Mina was enjoying her own bewilder- 
ment keenly. 

*^ How long did you think I could stand it ? I'm not made 
of — of — of soap ! You know Harry ! You liked him, didn't 


you ? And you knew Lady Tristram ! I've slept in this room 
two nights and '' 

" You haven't seen a ghost ? " 

" Ghost ! Oh, don^t be silly. I've lain here awake, looking 
at that picture. And it's looked at me — at least it seemed to. 
*What are you doing here?' That's what it's been saying. 
* What are you doing here ? ' No, I'm not mad. That's what 
I was saying myself. But the picture seemed to say it" 

There was a most satisfactory absence of Gainsborough 
about all this. 

" Then I go into the Long Gallery I It's no better there ! " 
Her hands were flung out despairingly. 

" You seemed to have settled down so well," murmured 

" Settled down ! What was there to do ? Oh, you know 
I hadn't I I can't bear it, Mina, and I won't. Isn't it hard ? 
I should have loved it all so, if it had been really mine, if it 
had come to me properly. And now — it's worse than nothing! " 
She sat back in her chair with her face set in a desperate un- 

" It is yours ; it did come to you properly," Mina protested. 
Her sympathy tended always towards the person she was with, 
her sensitive mind responding to the immediate appeal. She 
thought more of Cecily now than of Harry, who was some- 
where — ^vaguely somewhere — in London. 

" You say that ? " cried Cecily angrily. " You, Harry's 
friend ! You, who fought and lied — yes, lied for him. Why 
did you do all that if you think it's properly mine ? How can 
I face that picture and say it's mine ? It's a detestable injus- 
tice. Ah, and I did — I did love it so." 

" Well, I don't see what you're to do. You can't give it 
back to Mr. Tristram. At least I shouldn't like to propose 
that to him, and I'm sure he wouldn't take it. Why, he 
couldn't, Cecily ! " 

Cecily rose and walked restlessly to the window. 

" No, no, no," she said fretfully. She turned abruptly round 


to Mina. "Lord Southend says he'd be glad to make my 
acquaintance and have a talk." 

" Ask him down here, then." 

"Ask him here? I'm not going to ask people to stay 

" I think that's rather absurd." Mina had needed to 
summon up courage for this remark. 

"And he says — ^there, look at this letter. He says he's 
seen Harry and hopes to be able to do something for him. 
What does he mean by that ? " She came back towards Mina. 
" There must be something possible if he says that." 

" He can't mean anything about — about Blent. He 
means " 

" I must find out what he means. I must see him. The 
letter came when I was just desperate. Father and I sitting 

down here together day after day ! As if— as if 1 " She 

paused and struggled for self-control. " There, I'm going to 
be quite calm and reasonable about it," she ended. 

Mina had her doubts about that — ^and would have been 
sorry not to have them. The interest that had threatened to 
vanish fix)m her life with Addie Tristram's death and Harry's 
departure was revived. She sat looking at the agitated girl in 
a pleasant suspense. Cecily took up Southend's letter again 
and smoothed it thoughtfully. "What should you think 
Harry must feel about me ? " she asked, with a nearer approach 
to the calm which she had promised ; but it seemed the quiet of 

Here Mina had her theory ready, and advanced it with 

" I expect he hates you. You see he did what he did in a 
moment of excitement : he must have been wrought up by 
something — something quite unusual with him. You brought 
it about somehow." 

" Yes, I know I did. Do you suppose I haven't thought 
about that ? " 

" There's sure to have been a reaction," pursued the sage 


Imp. '' He'll have got back to his ordinary state of mind, and 
in that he loved Blent above everything. And the more he 
loves Blent, and the sorrier he is for having given it up, the less 
he'll like you, of course." 

"You think he's sorry?" 

" When I've done anything on an impulse like that I'm 
always sorry." Mina spoke from a tolerably large experience 
of impulses and their results ; a very recent example had been 
the impulse of tempCT which made her drop hints to'the Major 
about Harry's right to be Tristram of Blent. 

" Yes, then he would hate me," Cecily concluded. " And 
how she'd hate me ! " she cried the next instant, pointing at 
Addie Tristram's picture. 

About that at least there was no doubt in Mina's mind. 
She nodded emphatically. 

" I've done what she spent her life trying to prevent ! I've 
made everybody talk about her again I Mina, I fed as if I'd 
thrown mud at her, as if I'd reviled her. And she can't know 
how I would have loved her 1 " 

" I remember her when she thought her husband was dead, 
and that she could be married aU right to Captain Fitzhubeit, 
and — and that it would be all right, you know," 

" What did she say ? " Cecily's eyes were on the picture, 

" She cried out — • Think of the difference it makes — 
the enormous difference ! ' I didn't know what she meant 
then, but I remember how she looked and how she 

" And in the end there is — no difference ! Yes, she'd hate 
me. And so must Harry." She turned to Mina, " It's 
terribly unfair, isn't it, terribly ? She'd have liked me, I 
think, and I'd got to be such good friends with him, I'd 
come to think he'd ask us down now and then — about once 
a year perhaps. It would have been something to look 
forward to aU the year. It would have made life quite 
different, quite good enough, you know, I should have been 


so content and so happy with that. Oh, it's terribly unfair ! 
Why do people do things that — that bring about things like 
this ? " 

" Poor Lady Tristram," sighed Mina, glancing at the 
beautiful cause of the terrible unfairness. " She was like that, 
you see," she added. 

" Yes, I know that. But it oughtn't to count against other 
people so. Yes, it's terribly unfair." 

These criticisms on the order of the world, whether 
well-founded or not (to Mina they seemed to possess much 
plausibility), did not advance matters. A silence fell between 
the two, and Cecily walked again to the window. The sun 
was setting on Blent, and it glowed in a soft beauty. 

** To think that I should be here, and have this, and yet be 
very, very unhappy I" murmured the girl softly. She faced 
round suddenly. "Mina, I'm going to London. Now — 
to-night. There's a train at eight." 

The Imp sat up straight and stared. 

" I shaU wire to our house ; the maid's there, and she'll 
have things ready." 

" What are you going to town for ? " 

" To see this Lord Southend. You must come with me." 

" I ? Oh, I can't possibly. And your father ? " 

''He must stay here. You must come. Run back and 
pack a bag ; you won't want mi^ch. I shall go just as I am." 
With a gesture she indicated the plain black frock she wore. 
"Oh, I can't be bothered with packing! What does that 
matter ? I'll call on you in the carriage at seven. We mustn't 
miss the train." 

Mina gasped. This was Tristram indeed ; the wild resolve 
was announced in tones calmer than any that Cecily had 
achieved during the interview. Mina began to think that all 
the family must have this way of being peculiar in ordinary 
things, but quite at home when there was an opportunity of 
doing anything unusual. 


'' I just feel I must go. If an3rthing's done at aU, itll be 
done in London, not here." 

" How long do you mean to stay ? *' 

'*I can't possibly telL Till something's done. Go now, 
Mina, or you'll be late." 

" Oh, I'm not coming. The whole thing's absurd. What 
can you do ? And anyhow it's not my business." 

" Very well. I shall go alone. Only I thought you were 
interested in Harry and — and I thought you were my friend." 
She threw herself into a chair; she was in Addie Tristram's 
attitude. '' But I suppose I haven't got any friends," she 
concluded, not in a distressed fashion, but with a pensive, 
submissive little smile. 

" You're perfectly adorable," cried Mina, running across to 
her. "And I'll go with you to Jericho, if you like." She caught 
Cecily's hands in hers and kissed her cheek. 

The scene was transformed in an instant ; that also was 
the Tristram way. Cecily sprang up laughing gaily, even 
dancing a step or two, as she wrung Mina's hands. 

"Hurrah! Marchons! En Avantf' she cried. "Oh, 
we'll do something, Mina !' Don't you hate sitting still ? " 

" Cecily, you are — ^you are in love with Harry ? " 
Oh, I hope not, I hope not," she laughed gaily. 
Because he must hate me so. And are you, Mina? Oh, 
I hope not that too ! Come, to London ! To seek our 
fortunes in London I Oh, you tiresome old Blent, how glad 
I am to leave you ! " 

" But your father ^" 

" We'll do things quite nicely, Mina dear. We won't dis- 
tress father. We'll leave a note for him. Mina, I'm sure 
Addie Tristram used just to leave a note whenever she ran 
away ! We'll sleep in London to-night 1 " 

Suddenly Mina understood better why Harry had surren- 
dered Blent, and understood too, as her mind flew back, why 
Addie Tristram had made men do what they had done. She 




was carried away by this sudden flood of enraptured resolu- 
tion, of a resolve that seemed like an inspiration, of delight 
in the unreasonable, of gay defiance to the limits of the 

" Oh yes, you tiresome old Blent 1 " cried Cecily, shaking 
her fair hair towards the open window. " How could a girl 
think she was going to live on river scenes and bric-a-brac ? " 
She laughed in airy scorn. " You must grow more amusing 
if I'm to come back to you 1 " she threatened. 

River scenes and brio-a-brac! Mina was surprised that 
Blent did not on the instant punish the blasphemy by a 
revengeful earthquake or an overwhelming flood. Cecily 
caught her by the arm, a burlesque apprehension screwing her 
face up into a fastastieally ugly mask. 

" It was the Gainsborough in me 1 " she whispered ; " Gains- 
boroughs can live on curios ! But I can't, Mina, I can't. I'm 
a Tristram, not a Gainsborough. No more could Harry in the 
end, no more could Harry ! " 

Mina was panting ; she had danced and she had wondered ; 
she was on the tip of the excitement with which Cecily had 
infected her. 

'^ But what are we going to do ? " she cried in a last protest 
of common sense. 

"Oh, I don't know, but something — something — some- 
thing," was the not very common-sense answer she received. 

It was not the moment for common sense. Mina scorned 
the thing and flung it from her. She would have none of it — 
she who stood between beautiful Addie there on the wall and 
laughing Cecily here in the window, feeling by a strange and 
welcome illusion that though there were two visible shapes, 
there was but one heart, one spirit in the two. Almost it 
seemed as though Addie had risen to life again, once more to 
charm and to defy the world. An inexplicable impulse made 
her exclaim : 

" Were you like this before you came to Blent ? " 


A sudden quiet fell on Cecily. She paused before she 
answered : 

'' No, not till I came to Blent.** With a laugh she fell on 
her knees. " Please forgive me what I said about the river 
and the bric-a-brac, dear darling Blent ! " 

( To be continued.) 




MAY 1901 


Investment, Trade and Gambuno Page 1 

On the Line 12 


















No, 8. III. 2.— May IPOI a 

The Editor of the Monthly Review it always happy to receive 
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should be addressed to the Editor, " Monthly Review/' 
50a Albemarle Street, London, W. 



THE British public suffers from intermittent paroxysms. 
Usually the fit is of short duration, and when it terminates 
the inert mass of public opinion sinks back from its transient 
mood of activity into the lethargy and indifference which it 
loves too well. The familiar phenomenon has recently been 
observed again in reference to the laws and usages of limited 
companies, and the status and functions of the Stock Exchange ; 
and now having passed through the active and volcanic phase, 
we find the period of quiescence once more coming upon us. 

It seems a pity that such impulses and motive forces die 
away too often before there has been time to yoke them to a 
practical use ; or, when they are indicative of disease, before 
the determination to be rid of the disorder has taken definite 

Off and on for many years England has heard much angry 
discussion about companies promoters and the like, touched 
sometimes by Xhe furor politicus. Last year Parliament passed 
another Companies' Act of slight importance — slight because 
it deals mainly with the evils of the past; and the public having 
taken this sedative can now sleep in peace. But whilst the 
mood lasted, there were mob-like shoutings in the press — 
marred unfortunately in some cases by political bias. Reput- 
able people spoke as if to be a member of the Stock Exchange 
was as the sin of witchcraft, an unholy and illicit trafficking with 


the Evil One ; as if merely to be the director of a public com- 
pany created a taint in the blood, a modem attainder, which 
not only incapacitated the unfortunate being from every form 
of public service, but was, like leprosy, ineradicable when once 
acquired; or, again, as if to have been concerned with a 
speculative undertaking, was, in itself, a crime against society, 
success in which was a proof of blood-guiltiness, and fmlure 
evidence of a yet more criminal folly. 

Now, that the present system of public companies is exposed 
to evil influences, enough and to spare, we should be the last 
to deny. We hope to touch lightly on some, but by no means 
all, later on. But this wild unreasoning spirit of vituperation, 
and undiscriminating mob-law, or press-law, are in many cases 
cruel to the individual, and defeat their own ends in con- 
sequence of their very injustice. Let us therefore take advantage 
of the present lull to consider calmly what are the elements of 
the situation, and what is the test by which we may ascertain 
the rights and the wrongs of the case. 

Broadly speaking it may be said that the modern system of 
public companies, with its corollary the Stock Exchange, 
constitutes a vast "money market," the particular aspect of 
money with which it is concerned being the medium for the 
transfer of capital or power. In the older theory of economics, 
capital with its opportunity of encouraging one industry, or 
discouraging another, was regarded as altogether fluid. In fact 
much of it is not so ; but the present system of public com- 
panies gives to such capital as is not fixed the utmost elasticity 
and mobility of which it is capable. The Stock Exchange is 
not essential for that purpose ; nor is it the only agency of the 
kind. In former days the principal agency was the banking 
firatemity. But under modem conditions of commercial life 
that is not sufficient ; and to-day, throughout the world, the 
existence of stock exchanges and public companies enables the 
small capitalist, according to his means, to select the particular 
industry or undertaking which he prefers to encourage and 
from which he desires to derive profit The system meets in 


this way a requirement of modem times, and represents in 
commerce the evolution of democracy. It brings with it the 
advantage that the smaU capitalist is enabled to participate 
directly in the profits derived from the use of his capital, 
instead of allowing the bulk (or the whole) of that profit to be 
acquired by his banker, or some trader to whom his capital 
may have been advanced by the bank. In other words he 
receives a direct personal share in the benefits which are 
derived by society as a whole firom his having saved, over and 
above such advantage as he may receive qua member of 

Assuming then that the present system will be maintained 
in its broad outlines for many years, what is it that may be 
described as its legitimate function ? In our view its proper 
object is to stimulate and facilitate enterprise by increasing the 
activity of money, and affording to the greatest number of the 
public an opportunity of participating in, and influencing, 
industry. Primarily this opportunity is placed before the 
public when a limited company is by prospectus offering its 
shares for subscription ; and when once an investor has received 
his allotment of shares, no doubt it is true that a definite 
amount of free capital thereby becomes fixed, whether those 
shares remain in his name or not But, in a secondary degree 
and indirectly, the investor who purchases on the market shares 
of an already-established company also helps to influence the 
direction in which capital flows, although for present purposes 
it will be sufficient to deal with the original flotation of the 

What then is the process of flotation ? It is a sale to the 
general public or such of them as respond to the invitation in 
the prospectus. The vendors and promoters constitute as it 
were the manufacturers of an article which the public require ; 
that is, they manufacture easily transferable interests in com- 
mercial enterprises. Now manufacturers are subject to the 
ordinary motives influencing mankind, and manufacturers of 
shares may, like the rest, produce and sell a worthy or a worth- 


less article. It is not the class of article which they manufacture 
which is the unhallowed thing, nor are they tainted by the 
fact that they participate in the process of manufacture, either 
as promoters or vendors. It is the quality of the particular 
article which is the test. But under present conditions the 
Teators of shares are peculiarly exposed to two temptations : 
The first that they should foist off upon a more or less gullible 
public an article which is intrinsically worthless, and known by 
the promoters so to be ; and the second, that when selling 
something which has value they should demand too high a 
price, or, in technical language, " over-capitalise." To both these 
influences promoters succumb ; and owing to the peculiar dis- 
advantages under which an investor must labour it is generally 
felt tiiat buyer and seller are not on equal terms, that there is 
no real freedom of contract, and that the promoter ought to be 
treated as being under some fiduciary obligation towards the 
investing public. At the present moment it is the latter of 
the two dangers which has been attracting most attention, 
namely, " over-capitalisation." The notorious collapse of many 
of the Hooley undertakings was a s3rmptom of this evil ; and 
the same feature is visible in some of the concerns floated by 
the London and Globe Corporation. In the case of that 
company there was a further disquieting feature, the inter- 
vention by a large company in some of the least satisfactory 
operations of the stock-jobber. 

But before discussing that point we desire to complete an 
outline of the procedure affecting stocks and shares. No sooner 
have the processes of manufacture been completed, and the 
product sold to the original aUottees, than the ordinary func- 
tions of stock-broker and stock-jobber come into use. Prac- 
tically, although not in theory or in law, the stock-broker is 
the tradesman or shopkeeper for shares. He is the person to 
whom the general public must go, if they wish to buy. True 
it is that in law he is an agent merely, that he does not 
specialise, that each broker is a universal provider of shares, 
and that he will not only provide, but dispose of, shares of any 


kind for a member of the public. But for our purpose it is 
sufBcient to say that his primary and appropriate function is to 
act as the middleman, the intermediary between the public on 
the one side and the merchant or dealer on the other ; and for 
this service he receives as his legitimate reward a commission 
or percentage. 

The stock-jobber, on the other hand, is the merchant or 
dealer to whom our tradesman (or broker) goes if he wishes 
to effect a bargain for his customer. Now the jobber is a 
specialist. Each one confines, or should confine, himself to 
specified classes of security which he is always more or less 
willing to buy or sell, and which ought to receive his careful 
study. The jobber s remuneration is not, like that of the 
broker, a fixed commission, but depends upon the difference 
between the price at which he buys and the price at which he 
sells. Like any other merchant he endeavours always to sell 
at a higher price than he has paid, or vice versa. In securing 
that difference of price he finds his reward and livelihood. 
The function which he performs in the machinery of exchange 
is of service to the community. He provides an easily- 
accessible market-place at which the public, through the 
brokers, can buy or sell ; and by concentrating all transactions 
in the one market, and thereby eliminating or averaging any 
abnormal considerations, he helps to keep prices steady and avoid 
erratic fluctuations of value. He may, of course, endeavour 
to create " comers " or artificially adjusted values, or otherwise 
misuse the opportunities of his position ; but for the moment 
we are regarding his essential function. Now, as will readily 
be seen, the intrinsic value of the commodity which he is 
engaged in transferring is of no great importance to him 
personally. All that he knows is that one person wishes to 
sell and another is willing to buy, and that he receives a reward 
or profit for mediating or effecting the twofold transaction; 
or his judgment may be at fault and he may have to sell at a 
loss. He tends therefore to look solely at the market values, 
and the possibility of his being able to secure his margin of 


profit An astute man of sound judgment may prove remark- 
ably successful in assessing his chances and making his bargidns ; 
and if he is also bold, or deals in some security which is subject 
to large fluctuations, he may by a successAil stroke achieve a 
very dramatic reward. Therein lies his temptation and danger ; 
and so long as he is matching his wits solely against members 
of the Stock Exchange, and there is no imfair manipulation of 
the market, the danger is one for himself and his fellows alone, 
and the issue rather a matter of domestic concern on the Stock 
Exchange than of general interest. 

In recent years, however, a gradual change has come over 
public opinion in regard to investments, a change which makes 
the stock-jobbing view with regard to them a matter of wider 
concern. First of all, the broker, not content with his small 
and steady commission for the performance of his legitimate 
duty, is often tempted to emulate the jobber, and, without 
performing any such useful ftmction as that of the legitimate 
jobber, to engage in what he calls *' a flutter," to speculate for 
the rise or fall, to be in the language of the market " a bull " 
or '' a bear," on the chance of achieving some successful stroke. 
Next, the man in the street, unwilling that gentlemen of the 
Stock Exchange should have a monopoly of these dazzling 
profits, begins to compete with them and match his information, 
judgment, or purse against those of the specialists in the game. 
From this his broker, who receives a commission each time he 
buys or sells, is not likely to deter him ; and it may be assumed 
that the more active he is in popping in and out of his invest- 
ments the more he will tacitly or expressly be encouraged by 
his agent The total result is this, that step by step a 
larger and larger number of the investing public absorb 
the stock-jobbing view with regard to investments, and look 
more and more to the possibility of snatching a profit, and less 
and less to the permanence or intrinsic worth of the investment 
which they are about to make. 

Reverting now to the formation of public companies, it 
will readily be seen how this prevailing tendency amongst 


investors affords peculiar opportunities to the company pro- 
moter. A large class of migratory investors has grown up, who 
care very little about real values but very much about the 
value on the market, who are quite content to apply for shares 
which they know to be of less value than the promoter 
demands, and who are not in any way deceived or defrauded, 
but invest with open eyes on the chance of getting out sub- 
sequently at a profit. To these birds of passage the paramount 
question is not " Am I getting a good security ? " but " Can I 
snatch a premium before I make my flight ? ** Thus to a large 
number of the original investors over-capitalisation becomes of 
comparatively little moment, except in so far as it affects their 
prospects of profit and loss in a jobbing experiment; and, 
inasmuch as the unsophisticated public is inclined to view big 
figures as in themselves an evidence of worth, it is probable 
that over-capitalisation, even when effected with the candour 
which was displayed in some of Mr. Hooley's prospectuses, is 
far from being any disadvantage to the regular premium- 
hunter. This migrant investor, who is often a broker or 
jobber, then slips out of the company, preferably at a profit, 
and some other member of the investing public gets " landed " 
with the shares. 

Now in our view the special evil of the day lies not so 
much in the cupidity and rascality of promoters, or the gulli- 
bility of ignorant investors (neither of which class is of very 
modem origin), as in the fact that the general public and the 
brokers, instead of adhering to their appropriate frmctions, are 
now eager to grasp at the reward which normally belongs to 
the jobber, without themselves performing any of the usefril 
functions in return for which he is legitimately entitled to a 
reward. In one aspect this springs from the prevailing spirit 
of the times, which hopes to enjoy the fruits, pleasures, and 
rewards properly resulting from toil, skill, or abstinence, 
without paying the price or accepting some corresponding 
duty. It might in that respect be compared to one aspect of 
gambling or betting. But the inner significance of it is we 


think very different ; and just because it is a perversion of that 
which might be an influence of real service to society it inflicts 
all the greater damage upon our commercial life. 

For what are the classes of undertaking in which the 
investor may place his money? A very rough classification 
would indicate three groups. There is the investment which 
is more or less secure, the income derived from which is small 
but practically assured, the capital value of which is not likely 
to be seriously affected, and which for sake of brevity we will 
describe as a ** security." Then there is what may properly be 
called a ** speculation/' a risk in which the chance of failure is 
abnormally great, but in which the hope of phenomenal success 
invariably appears. In between these two classes there lies a 
group which partakes of the nature of each, and is aptly 
described as an ''adventurous investment," something which 
possesses both the quasi-permanence of an investment and also 
some of the risks and possibilities of the speculation. Such a 
classification is, of course, a very rough one, and there are 
infinite gradations and variations of tjrpe within these broad 

Now to our mind one of the gravest evils of English com- 
mercial life to-day, an evil which seems likely to throttle much 
of the natural energy and resource of the English trader, is the 
wrong choice which is now being made by the general invest- 
ing public as between these three classes of investment The 
tendency is more and more to select the two extremes, the 
" security " and the " speculation," and to avoid that which 
offers the best hope of national progress and development, the 
" adventurous investment" 

This is not a question of right- or wrong-dealing by 
members of the Stock Exchange, or of shady practices by 
promoters, important though such questions may be within 
their spheres ; it is rather a matter which touches the thought 
and action of a great part of the middle-class, and for which 
they are chiefly responsible. Parents providing for their 
families, trustees of settlements, and the somewhat pharisaical. 


beings who scorn the notion of a Stock Exchange transaction, 
gradually lock up more and more capital in " securities/' and 
run no risks. Even the permeation of society by the stock- 
jobbing view helps to accentuate the process: First, by frighten- 
ing those who are respectable away from anjrthing which 
savours of speculation by attaching the stigma of gambling to 
ventures which possess the element of risk at all ; and, secondly, 
by inducing even speculators to place some portion of their 
money in such "securities" partly as a guarantee against 
absolute ruin, and partly because they like to have their capital 
in some form in which it can be realised easily and diverted at 
need into a more profitable channel; so they too join the 
throng of people who buy safe " securities." 

But the admirably characteristic British notion of a per- 
fectly secure smug middle-class minimum of comfort or luxury 
does not exhaust the impulses and desires of the British nature. 
Deep-seated in the fibre of our being there is a love of sport, a 
pleasure in danger for its own sake ; a spirit of adventure and 
willingness to take risks ; a delight derived from mere achieve- 
ment of a purpose ; a fascination in matching one's skill, energy, 
wit, or judgment against some one else ; an exhilaration in the 
act itself, and a subtle joy in the success. This instinct finds 
some scope even in investments. So long as the game is not 
indulged in at the expense of the community, or to the ruin of 
one's neighbour, and so long as it is not played with loaded 
dice, or by one whose obligations forbid him to take the risk, 
there may in one aspect be no great harm in it. But since, as 
we have said, the stock-jobbing view pervades the investing 
mind, and it is the mere " speculation " which ofiers in a special 
degree the conditions of financial adventure, it happens that to 
an ever-increasing degree the speculation pure and simple 
allures a large portion of the free capital of the country. 
Mingled with this there is often the itching desire to be rich at 
all hazards, and to enjoy the luxuries of life ; but we think that 
the above is not an imfair statement of the influences at work. 
Added to this is the fact that every year more and more of 


the well-established commercial imdertakings in the country 
are converted into limited companies. Managers and directors 
of such concerns who might, prior to their taking in the 
public as partners, have been prepared occasionally to take 
trade risks above the average, in the hope of personal reward 
arising therefrom, become less anxious to accept such a respon- 
sibility. They know that if a venture turns out badly their 
reputation will suffer gravely, and that from their point of view 
it is better to pursue the hum-drum course, and see a gradually 
declining trade, than run any risk of exposing their co-partners 
to severe loss and themselves to the vituperation of disappointed 
shareholders or the sometimes spiteful attacks of an anony- 
mous press. Therefore, even in perfectly sound undertakings, 
the spirit of commercial enterprise tends to be choked ; and 
the original object of the Companies Act, viz., the encourage- 
ment of industrial undertakings such as individuals or small 
groups could not easily carry on, is now being defeated by the 
operation of those very Acts themselves. 

This we regard as the grave evil The spirit of adventure 
has been directed into the barren channel of mere speculation 
of a stock-jobbing nature, where it can result in little fruit, 
instead of pursuing the more fertile and nationally beneficial 
course of the adventurous investment. As a matter of fact, 
it is in the intelligent foresight of public needs, in the accept- 
ance of fair commercial hazards, in enterprise and activity m 
spheres which are new, either geographically or in the sense of 
creating new wants, that the hope of English commerce must 
lie. But such hazards imply the chance of failure ; and to-day 
public opinion, dealing out as it does a wild undiscriminating 
justice, and blind to all but the fact of failure or success, 
deters the honest man of solid judgment and enterprise, who 
has a reputation which he values, from embarking upon any 
venturesome hazard with the money of shareholders, or from 
accepting the responsibility of a director in any company of 
which the future is problematical. Thus it is that capital 
abstains from adventurous investments, that the soundest 


commercial intellect of the day is directed not so much to the 
task of guiding new ventures as to bolstering up the old ones 
on old lines, and commercial enterprise begins to wane. 

What then is the remedy for this? The answer is not 
easy. As may be gathered, the evil, in our opinion, is not one 
which can be righted by mechanical means, or one in which 
legislation alone can avail very much. At the root it springs 
from an intellectual and moral change ; and it is to the intel- 
lectual and moral perceptions that the appeal must be made. 
A sounder, more observant, and more discriminating judgment 
must be cultivated and expressed. Public opinion must not, 
out of mere laziness or haziness of thought, confound the 
healthy enterprise with the pure speculation. The doctrine 
must be preached that the adventurous investment is the truly 
patriotic form of using capital ; that in the creation of new 
industries and new ventures lies the hope of our nation ; that 
he is not a gambler who accepts his risk in an investment like 
a man and abides by it, fairly making his choice ; but that every 
member of the investing public who yields to the stock-jobbing 
ideal of seizing a turn on the market, with the ** Devil take the 
hindmost " notion in his mind, is doing what he can to sap our 
national pre-eminence, and corrupting the commercial integrity 
upon which as a nation and empire we depend. 


The Girl at the Half-Way House. By E. Hough. 
(Heinemann. 4*, net.) — The Day of War, the Day of the 
Buffalo, the Day of the Cattle, the Day of the Plough, are the 
last four of the days which went to the creation of America. 
The author is filled with the consciousness of the great work in 
hand, and succeeds in giving his men and women not only life 
but something of the heroic air and movement From the 
storming of the trenches before Louisberg in chapter ii to the 
surrender of Mary Ellen in the tram-car on the last page, 
neither the story nor the characters ever fall below themselves. 
Of course the hero and heroine, though quite satisfactory, are 
not the pick of the basket : that place is undoubtedly reserved 
for Battersleigh, formerly ** lance-sergeant in the ould Tinth 
Rigiment," and now juoneer, speculator, and uncrowned king 
of EUisville, the town at the end of the trail. " Never yet was 
Batty without the arms and the appar 1 of a gintleman '' : ^^^ 
if only for the way in which this boast was maintained on the 
occasion of " The First Ball at EUisville," he deserves to be 
remembered no less than Captain Costigan himself. 

The very air of the North breathes fresh and strong in the 
lovely tales From a Swedish Homestead, by Selma 
Lagerlof. (Heinemann. 6*.) — Rare is this fragrance of a 
foreign land around us whilst we read ; few writers — at most 
but one or two of those acquainted with human nature— 


give it us. Who has not opened a book by Tolstoi, or — ^to 
come down in the scale — by Maarten Maartens, with a feeling 
of mingled relief and disappointment that Russians and the 
Dutch should be (except in the trifling matter of names) just 
as much Uke the English as the Romaas in ''Julius Caesar'* 
are? There are no Englishmen, no Englishwomen here; all 
are of the far North, Northerners. We are carried over sea at 
once by the weird pathetic story of the young mad gentleman, 
of the girl who was buried alive. There is a singular touch 
of Ibsen in the description of " Mistress Sorrow " — " an old 
lady in a long black velvet cloak, with many small capes on 
the shoulders," concealing bat's wings and the large cracked 
claw at the end of her long finger. She is truly of the kin 
of the horrible Rat- Wife ; she awakens shuddering. The 
marvellous beauty of the tale that follows will make older 
people doubt whether even De la Motte Fouqu^, as he 
appeared to them at fifteen, possessed a greater charm. Italy 
and the Middle Ages rise at the spell. The strange modem 
feeling of Christianity towards a ghost shines out in ''Old 
Agnete." Venice lies all about us in "The Fisherman's 
Rmg." " Our Lord and St Peter " and " The Flight into 
Egypt " are both exquisite, and the parable of " The Empress's 
Money-Chest " will come home to hearts other than those of 
the workmen at CharleroL There is deep and subtle power in 
the study of the mother who never loved her child till it was 
dead. It is a pity that such a book must come to us in a 

In spite of the date of the book, 1827-1880, The Journal 
of Mrs. Fenton — (Arnold. Ss. 6d net) — ^is as near, as familiar, 
as the Swedish Homestead is remote. There are so many 
Mrs. Fentons; surely there must be one in almost every 
family in England. She might be anybody's great-aunt, 
everybody's fourth cousin. She married first a captain called 
Campbell, next a captain called Fenton, and she had a baby 
called Flora. She went to India with the first captain in 1826, 


and to the Isle de France and Australia with the second very 
soon afterwards. She preferred the society of gentlemen to 
that of ^'females/' and she remarks with charming naivete 
how pretty every one thought her, how much her fine com- 
plexion was admired, and her beautiful hair. She is always 
endeavouring, apparently without the shghtest success, to 
restrain the tears which gush from her eyes ; she calls the stars 
" beautiful orbs," she says " It was ever thus," and she drops 
into poetry with the ease of one who could, as she informs us, 
express herself "better in verse than in prose." She was a 
great admirer of Mrs. Hemans, who '^ is, to my taste, the Sappho 
of English poetry, but dignified by a lofty and pure imagina- 
tion which Sappho never knew " ; and she is rather severe on 
people who are not endowed with so much sensibihty as herself: 
** What strange and varying feelings sweep the hidden chords 
of the human heart, and here George sits smoking as calmly as 
a Turk 1 " " What a pity it is so few people are original 1 " says 
she ; and without a single original thought she contrives to be 
entertaining from the first page to the last. She gives no clear 
idea of the people amongst whom she lived. From the native 
who "said he had read the Bible, which was a very pretty 
book written by Lindley Murray, containing true stories, of 
which he chiefly admired Noah," to the great Havdock, who 
fell fast asleep behind a row of chairs one evening, an offence 
she did not forgive, they are introduced merely because for a 
moment they served or amused this fragile little wandering 
princess. She paints her landscapes in the delicate, leisurely, 
old-fashioned style. " Look at that party of women coming 
over the bank with those classical-shaped water-pots on their 
heads I See what graceful figures in their own peculiar costume, 
how elegantly they walk ! What Enghshwoman could descend 
through that broken ground with such antelope steps ? Then 
see that immense elephant crossing the river with his rider 
waving that slender branch which is enough to guide him. 
After the death of her first husband she becomes a perfect 
Niobe. Her marriage with Fenton did not avail to stem the 


torrent of her tears — Fenton seems to have bullied her into it, 
though he did everything she wished without the least hesita- 
tion, ever after — but the baby brought consolation. "My 
child ! What a flood of new emotions the very name produces I 
It appears as if I never felt or loved till now." But the " infant," 
after the usual manner of infants, ended the joumaL 

My Experiences of the Boer War. By Count Stem- 
berg. (Longmans. 5^. net) — This may not be a great book, 
but to readers of this Review it can hardly fail to be interest- 
ing. That part of it which deals with the art of war in general 
strenuously endeavours to controvert such views as those put 
forward in our February number by Lieut-Col. Maude, and 
held as of faith all over the Continent. According to Count 

the modem rifle, with its immense range and rapidity of fire, and smoke- 
less powder^ have completely upset the old principles of tactics. . . . While in 
the wars of the past an energetic offensive has led to victory, in the wars of 
the future it will lead to destruction. 

As for cavalry, it is " not for charging," but must be con- 
verted into mounted infantry, armed not with sword or lance, 
but with rifle and bayonet. The argument is well worth read- 
ing. The other point for us is the author s account of the 
English soldier — officer or private — who, in Count Sternberg's 
opinion, is the Happy Warrior we endeavoured to describe in 
the same number above mentioned. 

I may count myself fortunate ... to have finished my expedition as a 
prisoner, and so to have had the opportunity of seeing this splendid army under 
various conditions. . . . The tone among the officers was • • . nobUut oblige. 

When I think of the English officers my heart grows weary. Men who 
are decimated, shot down like rabbits at a drive, and still remain so kind- 
hearted and so chivalrous, show themselves to have the right blood in 
their veins 

I cai only repeat that the English officers and the English soldiers have 
shown in this war that the profession of arms does not debase^ but rather 
ennobles man. . . . The war has had its good side, and I' think I may si^ 
that never has a war been fought in so civilised a manner. 

N«. 8. III. 2.— May 1901 ■ 


The Count is further of opinion that conscription is likely 
to prove fatal from a military as well as a social point of view : 
that a smaller voluntary army wiU defeat larger armies of con- 
scripts ; and that in Africa ** no Continental army would have 
done better than the English with the same or even somewhat 
larger numbers." 

First on the Antarctic Continent. By C. E. Borch- 
grevink. (Newnes. 10*. %d. net.) — This is hardly in the same 
rank with Dr. Nansen's famous book, but it is a very interesting 
record and admirably illustrated from photographs. Of the 
members of the expedition we are not told much that is 
characteristic; but the dogs» the Finns, and the penguins 
are delightful throughout. Ninety dogs were taken, some 
being Siberians and some Greenlanders, and their masters were 
devoted to them. Many puppies were bom and throve in spite 
of the tempCTature and exposure. When one of them died, 

real was the grief depicted in Fougner's face. We found out later that 
... he had picked and dug in the frozen rocky ground until he had found 
a suitable last resting-place for his puppy^ . . . and put a pole in it as a 
mark. . . . He blushingly remarked that he had done it out of consideration 
for the other dogs. ''They might have eaten my puppy," he said, ''and 
become ill themselves." 

The idea was not altogether unfounded : 

Often during gales the dogs killed each other and ate their dead comrades. 
. . . They seemed with one accord to boycott a single dog for dajrs and 
weeks. . . . Then driven by hunger, or forgetting for the moment ... he 
might show himself ... on the ice. Off went the other dogs like wolves . . . 
and before any one could help it he was torn into pieces. 

The Finns — Savio and Must — were most attractive com- 
panions. On one occasion they risked their lives to save a dog. 
When one of the crew died, before he was buried by his fellows, 
" the two Finns, according to their wish, held a Lappish service 
— ^standing with bent heads in the cold, singing and talking to 
Mr. Hanson's dead body." On other occasions they played at 
" Sakko '' — a kind of chess — a Finn game, full of remarkable 


fonnalities. " These two shouted and jumped during their 

The penguins make their nests of stones, but are too clever 
to bring their materials up from the seashore. They waited 
till '' the pebble supply came down to the peninsula from the 
top of the cape, driven by the furious gales," and some robbed 
their unwary neighbours, like common rooks. Many of them 
sat for their portraits, which are excellent. 

In Tuscany. By Montgomery Carmichael. (Murray. 
9*. net.) — The author of this book unmistakably enjoyed 
writing it, and whether by way of reminiscence or anticipation 
he has succeeded in conveying to the reader some of his own 
delight in a fascinating people and their country. His Italy 
is not the Italy of the cheap trip — return tickets to any one 
town, five nights in an hotel, and perambulatory lectures — 
nor the Italy of exclusive culture and art pilgrimages. It is a 
living world, modem as weU as ancient and mediaeval, with 
trades, baths, pohtics, games, religion, literature and State 
lotteries all in going order. A particularly good chapter is 
that on the national game Pallone ; another gives the history 
of Orbetello. ** Everjrthing about this singular place is singular 
and imique." 

To its other wonders and memories might be added the 
cutting-out feats of Sir Peter Parker in 1811, and the saving 
of Garibaldi's Sicilian expedition by powder supplies obtained 
from the Spanish magazine, of which Mr. Carmichael gives a 

The Relief of Kumasi. By Captain H. C. J. Blss. 

(Methuen. 6^.) — It seems a pity that Lady Hodgson had not 
read this book before she published her own on the same 

To me [she says] it seems strange that, as the situation at K>fmasi was 
known to the officer commanding the relief column^ operations were not 
hurried on, and the difficulties due to weather, the state of the roads, and 


fatigue overcome at once. . . . Why was there so long a halt at Prahsu, 
which is certainly not the most pleasant of places to spend a fortnight at ? 

Over and above the initial necessity of collecting food, 
ammunition and carriers (p. 52) the mere difficulties of the road 
were enormous. Towards the end, when nearing Kumasi, 

we struggled along [says Captain Biss], holding on to each other in the inky 
forest-darkness. Nothing broke the deathlike silence, save the dropping of 
water from the trees overhead, and the squelch of filthy mud churned by three 
thousand feet. Soaked with rain, the column was forced at times to wade 
waist deep in water. The exhausted carriers fell out by dozens, one even died. 

As for the fighting, it was magnificent, but at first resulted 
only in a succession of reverses which " would have daunted 
any man not possessed of the indomitable pluck of our Com- 
mandant With him it was otherwise ; he only laboured on 
the harder." When the advance guard at Kwisa was joined, 
*' one's first impressions were that one had walked into a field 
hospital by mistake. Every third man one saw had some part 
of him tied up." The casualties of the expedition are believed 
to have made a record ; out of 152 Europeans, 9 (all officers) 
were killed in action, 7 died fix)m disease, 52 were wounded, 
and 54 invalided from wounds and sickness. The casualties of 
the native force (Sikhs and Hausas) were nearly 800 out of 
2804, besides 102 who died of disease. 

The book is simply written, but inspiriting and suggestive. 
The meaning of Empire is strikingly illustrated by such 
passages as these : 

British soldiers were at this time out of the question on account of the 
war in South Africa. 

. . . the Transvaal War was the chief reason why this particular time was 
selected by them. Their enormous stores of arms and ammunition testify to 
the rising having been long premeditated. 

On the 22nd we were all delighted to hear of the relief of Mafeking (by 
wire at Ogbomoso !) 

We heard (at Prahsu)^ for the first time, of the war in Giina and the 
advance on Peking of the Allied forces. 

The " weary Titan " is still afoot, it seems, and reaches her 


goal somehow. " 1 will personally," Mnrote Sir James Will- 
cocks, "relieve Kumasi by that date, under any circum- 

My Autobiography : a Fragment. By the Right Hon. 
Professor F. Max Miiller. (Longmans. 12^. 6rf.) — A good 
autobiography is probably the most difficult of all books to 
write, but Mr. Max Miiller possessed a temperament admir- 
ably suited to make such a success possible. He has woven 
into this fragment many of the threads which went to make 
up the charm remembered so vividly by generations of Oxford 
men: the naivete, the sunny thankfulness, the intellectual 
keenness, the childlike sympathy and absence of self-con- 
sciousness. He is himself on every page: nowhere more so 
than on page 41. 

I suppose we all remember how the sight of a wound of a fellow creature, 
naj even of a dog, gives us a sharp twitch in the same part of our own body. 
That bodily sympathy has never left me, I suffer from it even now as I did 
seventy years ago. And is there anybody who has not felt his eyes moisten 
at the sudden happiness of his friends ^ All this seems to me to account, to a 
certain extent at least, for that feeling of identity with so-called strangers, 
which came to me from my earliest days, and has returned again with 
renewed strength in my old age. 

It is unnecessary to lay stress upon the romantic aspect of 
a career which began under many disadvantages in the minia- 
ture capital of a small German Duchy and ended in Oxford 
after the attainment of a world-wide reputation and a seat at 
the Privy Council. Happily Mr. Max Miiller was free from 
those common British feelings which too often take half the 
interest out of a great life by concealing the humbleness of its 
origin : he does not describe his father, the poet Wilhelm 
Miiller, as " Son and heir of W. Muller, Esq.," after the 
fashion of Burke, but says frankly : 

My father's father, whom I never knew, seems not to have been dis- 
tinguished in any way. He was, however, a useful tradesman and a respected 
citizen of Dessau, and, as I see, the founder of the first lending library in that 
small town. 


It is clear, however, from the history of his son and grand- 
son, and firom the delicacy and refinement proved by the 
portraits in this volume, that there was plenty of good blood 
in the " useful tradesman's " family. 

The book is full of learning and of genial humour: it 
throws interesting sidehghts upon the transformation of the 
University and upon the Oxford Movement ; and it contains 
an unusually frank and complete statement of the writer's 
own faith. We hope that it may give to many who did not 
know him personally some insight into the charm of character 
which endeared him to the multitude of his friends. 

Little Memoirs of the Eighteenth Century. By George 
Paston. (Grant Richards. 7*. 6rf.) — The author of this charm- 
ing, scholarly and unpretentious volume invites us to meet " a 
little company of men and women" consisting of "two 
Grandes dawes of the Second George's Court," Lady Hertford 
and Lady Pomfret, " a poet-playwright who dabbled in diplo- 
macy," namely, Richard Cumberland, " an aristocratic d^classee^^ 
Lady Craven, ** an ex-shoemaker turned bookseller," the fickle 
James Lackington, " a Highland lady with literary proclivi 
ties," no other than Mrs. Grant of Laggan, author of " I^etters 
from the Mountains," and, last of all, the distinguished scholar, 
poor John Tweddell. In a preface of commendable brevity 
and point we are introduced to this well-assorted company by 
the statement that they all belonged to the genus *• self- 
re vealer." 

Mr. Paston gives us 880 pages of excellent matter, concise 
and lucid, where he allows himself some modest space for com- 
ment or explanation, and, where his originals are speaking for 
themselves, sufficiently diffuse to remind us agreeably of the 
century to which all alike belonged. Indeed, the casual reader 
who opens the book, as casual readers will, towards the end, 
would perhaps be inclined to shut it for ever after digesting 
one of John Tweddell's portentous love-letters. But if he will 
but turn back to the story of James Lackington he will find 


himself in a middle*class 7nilieu of that century as httle known 
as it is absorbing in its interest. As Mr. Paston says (p. 225) : 
*^ ... we cannot but be struck by the almost total absence of 
documents dealing, at first hand, with the trading and labour- 
ing classes of the period." He might have added that we know 
too little of those mediocrities who had not the entree to 
Strawberry Hill. Is there anything m aU Horace Walpole's 
letters more discerning or more humorous than Mrs. Grant's 
account of her visit to some relations at Perth (p. 258) ? She 
complains that her hostesses were 

too civil to let us alone^ too desirous of entertaining to hold their tongues 
for a moment, too observant to let us look serious without asking why we were 
so dull^ or out of the window without taxing us with being wearied of them. 
In ^ort, we did not gel our elbows on the tea-table while we stayed. 

The Meaning of Good. By G. Lowes Dickinson. (Made- 
hose. &. Qd. net.) — This little book sets out with a rich old- 
fashioned progranmie that reminds us of '^ Friends in Council " 
or of William Smith's " Thomdale." A number of old friends, 
some of whom have not met for years, come together in a 
Swiss hotel and discuss philosophical problems on its terrace. 
Their theme is the meaning of good, and they try to discover 
it by dialectics. Every point of view is represented except the 
orthodox. The Idealist, tlie Biologist, the advocate of Hegel 
and pure Reason, the disciple of Walt Whitman, the practical 
man, the Utilitarian politician, and the Cynic who believes in 
nothing but physical sensation — all these are to be found 
among the company. They centre round the Socrates of the 
party — ^the man who marshals and sifts their thoughts and 
ends by giving them his own creed as the best answer he can 
find to the problem they are debating. 

In turn he carries the thought of each to its logical con- 
clusion. The Hegelian, with his abstract good, gives him the 
most trouble ; but perhaps he is at his best when he disposes 
of the Cui Bono theory, or of the Utilitarian's conception of 
good as the greatest happiness of the greatest number. On 


the wbole^ the scientific Biologist comes off the worst in the 
investigation, and the Walt Whitmanite the best The only 
drawback in the Symposium is that the Socrates is only like 
his prototype in his position, and does not dominate the rest, 
or leave us secure in his authority. The final solution might 
as well come from any mouth as fix>m his. That solution, he 
indicates, lies in the Ufe of the personal affections — affections 
extended to as many of our fellow creatures as possible. 
Knowledge and Art, contends this follower of Browning, are 
only necessary steps in the Evolution of Liove : the heart alone 
makes them fruitful. 

The dream with which the discussion ends will be congenial 
to many, though perhaps not to experts in metaphysics. But 
the book is a compound of poetry and philosophy, and was 
written rather for the parlour than the study. It is, at all 
events, suggestive, and that is sajdng a great deal 

The Papacy in the XlXth Century. By Friedrich 
Nippold, translated by Laurence Henry Schwab. (G. P. 
Putnam's Sons. 10^. 6d.) — The most cogent among the many 
reasons which lead us to welcome the publication of this 
powerful book is that it may help to mitigate the ignorance of 
Continental Christianity, which is largely responsible for the two 
extreme tendencies in our own Church — ^the hankering after 
unity which, since 1870, can only be purchased by an impossible 
sacrifice, and the violent prejudice against things good or 
indifferent in themselves, which would have been exploited in 
the political interest at the last General Election had it not 
been for the war in South Africa. 

The central purpose of the book is to emphasise the 
distinction between Papalism and Catholicism. At the same 
time the writer has successfully illustrated and maintained 
the importance of the Catholic ideal as a corrective to the 
individualism of the Protestant schools of thought There are 
grounds for suspecting that this latter positive purpose has been 
to some extent obscured by the form which the translator has 


given to Herr Nippold's original volume. But in any case the 
appreciation of the courageous work of Dollinger and others of 
the Old-Catholic school is a valuable feature of the work. As 
Nippold says (p. 167) : 

The sacrifice which these enthusiastic representatives of the Catholic 
Church ideal made for their fidth has never been appreciated at its full value 
by Ptotestants. 

The form of the book is chronological, but it gains rather 
than loses by this in coherence and lucidity. The progressive 
concentration of absolute power in the Holy See is traced in a 
series of chapters, beginning with the Restoration of Pius VII. 
and of the Jesuits in 1814, and ending with the first Vatican 
Council in 1870. There is a note of deep tragedy in the 
account given of the preparations for this last fatal step. The 
chapters dealing with the Council and with the consequences 
of the dogma of Infallibility are the most masterly and, it 
should be added, the most temperate in the book. There 
is also a lucid and S3rmpathetic study of the Oxford Move- 
ment, to which attention will naturally be directed in this 

The Body of Christ By Charles Gore, D.D. (Mtu-ray. 
ds.) — This is a treatise to be read but not to be talked about : 
** silence is our best wisdom '' here, and we shall do no more 
than recommend the book in the most general, but at the same 
time in the strongest terms. Canon Gore tells us in his preface 
that this work *' is in part the result of an attempt to clear up 
my own thoughts on eucharistic subjects in view of the 
' Round Table Conference ' at Fulham." It is no secret that 
his wide learning, his sympathetic attitude and clearness of 
view rendered exceptional service to the members of that 
conference; and the same quahties appear no less strikingly 
in these pages. The professed controversialist will, no doubt, 
continue to care for none of these things, but those of all 
shades of opinion, who are interested in Christianity as a part of 
the practical life of the world, will find their best sympathies 


met and their best hopes confirmed in this deeply suggestive 
volume, for it treats not only of the " Devotional Unanimity " 
of Christendom, but of ** the power which belongs to the deepest 
human ideas, to grow with man's growth, and not to become 

The Rockies of Canada. By Walter Dwight Wilcox. 
(G. P. Putnam's Sons.) — This reincarnation of " Camping in 
the Canadian Rockies" will be welcome to many. It has 
long been evident — at least to the Alpine Club — that as 
a field for exploration and first ascents Switzerland must 
soon be played out. Of the snowy ranges remaining there 
can be no doubt that the Rockies are best suited to the 
needs of the more ordmary climber. They are, to begin 
with, fairly accessible — ^there are plenty of virgin peaks 
within a day's march of the rail; they are extremely beau- 
tiful, and he in a country fiill of interesting people, with 
abundant opportunities for sport of the most genuine kind 
— ^the sport of primitive man — dinner-hunting; of the size 
and abundance of the trout we cannot bring ourselves to 
speak. The beauty of air, water, snow and rock in this 
wonderful country is here shown in the only possible way, 
by forty photographic pictures of unusual perfection. Mount 
Assiniboine, and in a lesser degree Mount Sir Donald, show a 
very remarkable resemblance to the Matterhorn ; but a com- 
parison of all the principal peaks in Switzerland and Canada 
would apparently go decidedly in favour of the Rockies, though 
their average height would be less. The real difierence, how- 
ever, is a more vital one : the Swiss ascent is a matter of, at 
the most, thirty-six hours from hotel to hotel ; the Canadian 
explorer pitches his camp fifty times in two months, and lives 
on the trail with a miniature army corps of ponies, Indians, 
and " packers." Of Bill Peyto, the packer, a portrait is given, 
which is to our mind the finest picture in the book. Best 
of all, perhaps, is chapter xv., on the Indians. One tribe 
of these — ^the Stony Indians — seem to be the ideal braves 


of Fenimore Cooper and our childhood. ''The Stonies are 
exceptionally faithM ; they cannot be tempted to steal ; they 
are true to their word, and, more incredible still, they have an 
abhorrence of alcohol." They are also renowned in war, 
marvellous on the trail, friendly to the white man, fond of 
learning, religious and contented ; and — ^rare and happy climax 
— ^they appear to be actually increasing slightly in numbers. 

Deirdre Wed. By Herbert Trench. (Methuen. 5^.)— 
We have, it seems, one more poet than we knew — maker or 
finder of an Irish legend, which he tells in varied and masculine 
verse. Deirdre, a captive from the elf-mounds, was to wed the 
great king Connachar, but fled an hour before with young 
Naois, one of the sons of Usnach : 

Look now outside thy door, O Connachar ! 
The black oak with the vision-dripping boughs 
Whose foot is in thy fathers* blood of pride 
Stagger'd as I came up in the night-blast. 
In vain it stretches anger to the sky : 
It cannot keep the white moon from escape 
To sail the tempest ; nor O King canst thou ! 

The fourth canto is the story of their wedding on the islet : 

The slender hazels ask'd the Yew like night 

Beside the river-green of Lisnacaun, 
'' Who is this woman beautiful as light 

Sitting in dolour on thy branched lawn ; 
With sun-red hair, entangled as with flight. 

Sheening the knees up to her bosom drawn ? 
What horses mud-besprent so thirstily 
Bellying the hush pools with their nostrils wide ?" 
And the Yew, old as the long mountain side, 
Answerd, " I saw her hither with Clan Usnach ride." 

From here to the end all is beautiful, and we could quote from 
every page. But those who love romantic and heroic poetry 
will read for themselves. 




WE drew attention on a recent occasion (The Monthly 
Review, December 1901) to the fact that the War 
Office had placed large orders for field material with a small 
metallnrgic firm in Germany. Orders of this nature (except 
on an experimental scale) are recognised as unpatriotic, humi- 
liating, and illicit, for any first-class Power, so that it was 
natural that those responsible for them should have carefully 
concealed what had been done, and equally natural that com- 
ment should follow when the transaction became known. 

A question was raised in the German Reichstag as to how 
far the supply of such material was compatible with neutrality ; 
and in the English House of Commons the Secretary of State 
for War was asked (December 14, 1900) to explain the circum- 
stances imder which the order was given. Mr. Brodrick replied, 
in substance, that a severe crisis had forced the Gk)vemment 
to give large and urgent orders for field material; that the 
resources of the only two English firms who supply armaments 
were exhausted, and so the War Office had to give part of the 
work to Germany; that the Germans had delivered their 
material while the EngUsh were still hopelessly in arrears ; and 
finally that he could give no pledge that further orders would 
not be placed abroad. 


Now» we hold no brief for the English firms in question, and 
are no more inclined to find excuses for their shortcomings in 
the matter of delivery than we are to find excuses for the 
improvidence and supineness of the War Office which has 
brought the coimtry to so necessitous a condition. But the 
suggestion by a responsible Minister that the resources of 
English manufacture had been exhausted by an order for some 
two hundred field guns seems to us so misleading, and imder 
present circumstances so peculiarly mischievous, as to warrant 
a serious attempt to rebut it. Could anything be more 
damaging to our manufacturing reputation in the eyes of 
Europe than that the Secretary of State for War should admit 
that after three months of a second-rate war he was at the end 
of his resources, and had to turn to Germany for help ? 

And first it may be well to clear the way by stating that 
the sources upon which the Government can draw for war 
material are three : the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich, the manu- 
factories of Messrs. Vickers at Sheffield, Barrow, and Erith, 
and of Messrs. Armstrong at Newcastle and Manchester. 
Though the number of cannon-makers is thus limited because 
the capital and the technical experience involved in such works 
are enormous, their capacity of output is much greater than 
might be supposed, for Armstrong's works are imdoubtedly 
larger and better equipped than the Royal Arsenal, and Vickers 
have not shrunk in the last few years from a prodigious outlay 
in putting themselves on an equal footing with their rivals. 

We have no hesitation in saying that the capacity of Wool- 
wich, in conjunction with the properly used capacity of these two 
firms, is more than sufficient to meet any needs of this coimtry, 
even at a time of the greatest pressure. But there is reason in 
all things, and extravagant and impossible demands may very 
easily make the most ample resources appear inadequate. The 
best of watch-makers cannot make a watch in five minutes, 
no matter what stock of gold or mainsprings he may have 
prepared, no matter what amoimt of fine machinery he may 
have laid down. Yet this is what the War Office expects. 


For a quarter of a century Woolwich has kept the supply 
of field material entirely in its own hands ; we do not believe 
that half a dozen batteries have been ordered from outside 
contractors in the last generation. " Why should we go to 
outsiders when we can do the work oursdves ? *' is the War 
Office argument; but even assuming that the Arsenal can 
furnish the ordinary peace supply (and experience has shown 
how inadequate a supply will pass muster) » it is patent to eveiy 
one that it will always need the help of outside firms in case of 
war. But that help, to be effective, is very largely a question 
of plant and practice ; and common prudence would suggest 
that manufacturers should be induced to hold themselves in 
readiness for immediate supply by some system of continuity 
of orders (on however modest a scale) to be given in peace 
time. It is luueasonable to expect a large plant for making 
field material to be kept always ready, but always idle, when 

* an outside order for an English field gun is rarer than snow in 

I harvest 

I Crises have been the politician's excuse for ill-advised and 

unconstitutional action ever since the world began ; and if we 
refrain from saying that the present crisis has been intensified, 
if not brought about, by the improvidence of those who now 
use it as an excuse, we only do so on the broad principle of not 
flogging a dead horse. For years past manufacturers ought to 
have been trained up in the way they should go ; for years 
past reserve stores of material should have been established 
and kept constantiy replenished ; and it is imfair to disparage 
English production and say its resources are exhausted because 
it cannot make good in a moment the deficiencies of a decade. 
We are far firom saying that exceptional circumstances do 
not sometimes justify exceptional measures ; and given a suffi- 
ciently critical position, it might obviously become the duty of 
those in authority to buy material firom a foreign country. 
But to justify such a course it should be clear, first, that the 
material which it is proposed to purchase is good, and secondly, 
that similar material could not be supplied equally quickly firom 


home isources. in the present mstance there is reason to believe 
that neither of these conditions has been fulfilled. 

In comparing the promptitude of the German delivery 
with the delay of the English, the Secretary for War let it be 
supposed (no doubt unintentionally) that the material supplied 
was of the same quality and model in both instances, and that 
the conditions of supply were identical. But this was not so, 
and the comparison lacks all value in consequence. The German 
carriage was of a much more easily-made type, and the conditions 
of supply were wholly to the disadvantage of the English 

It is as well to premise that the designs of the English 
carriage are prepared in the Woolwich Arsenal, and issued to 
the contractor. He must work to them, and cannot work at 
all till he gets them ; while the German maker is entirely free 
from such trammels, and supplies his own pattern. This 
difference, which very seriously affects the question, was 
pointed out in a letter written to the THmes (in issue of 
January 5, 1901) by Sir Andrew Noble, chairman of Sir W. 
G. Armstrong, Whitworth & Company. The order for a 
certain number of batteries was given to his firm, he says, 
late in January, 

But it is sufficient, to show the difficulties with which we had to contend, 
to mention that the model of the breech block from which our tools and gauges 
had to be made (a work which would occupy five or six weeks) was only received 
by us on June 2, and that no less than forty-six drawings of details, either 
original or alterations to previous designs, were received by us between July i 
and the middle of September^ the date at which we commenced to deliver. 

We do not know whether such delays in the issue of 
Government drawings are customary. We hope not; for 
they seem to point to a vacillation and capricious change of 
detail not usually associated with technical confidence ; but in 
the present instance at least they must be taken as having 
severely handicapped the English output Thus, while it 
might be inferred from the House of Conmions statement 
that both English jand German makers received their orders at 


the same time, and were free to proceed with them from that 
instant, it appears that in reality certain important drawings 
were not forthcoming for the English makers, and that, as 
regards such a presumably vital point as the breech mechanism, 
their hands were tied for nearly six months after the order was 

A second essential difference in the conditions of contract 
will be found in the system of inspection pursued during 
manufacture. In England a certain number of artillery 
officers are specially detailed to superintend the manufacture 
of War Office material in private works. They reside on the 
spot, go day by day to the factory, and are allowed access at 
any time to any building where Government work is being 
carried on. The whole of the rough material is examined by 
them, and pieces cut off and subjected to certain mechanical 
tests defined in the contract. If the material fail at test, even 
by the smallest amount, it is rejected, and new must be obtained, 
with a corresponding dday. If the material pass the test, the 
inspector pimches his mark of approval upon it ; and until this 
mark is applied no work can be done on any given piece. 
Should processes of manufacture, such as tiuning or planing, 
threaten afterwards to remove this mark, the inspector must be 
awaited, so that he may transfer it to another part of the article, 
where it will not be interfered with. During the actual building 
up, other tests are required ; until at last the gun or carriage is 
sent to Woolwich to pass its final examination. Here, if any 
discrepancy with the standard pattern is detected, the article 
stands rejected until such discrepancy has been adjusted. We 
have been at some pains to obtain opinions of the delay caused 
by these most useful precautions, and estimates agree very 
closely in considering that some 40 per cent, to 50 per cent, is 
thus added to the time required for completion. Manufacturers 
have tried, time out of mind, to shake off these fetters, charac- 
terising inspection as arbitrary, pedantic or antiquated, with 
many other adjectives which none know better how to use than 
the public-spirited gun-maker ; but the common sense of the 


Gk)yerainent has hitherto prevailed in keeping up an absolutely 
essential precaution. 

In the case of the foreign order, these regulations were 
dispensed with. There was no waiting for Government 
drawings, no testing of rough material, no standard pattern as 
an ultimate criterion. Mr. Brodrick's advisers forgot to tell 
him that English producers were thus handicapped to the 
extent of 50 per cent, of the time of manufacture ; but ex- 
perience with the German material has shown that a rigid 
inspection can by no means be neglected with impunity. 

In turning from the differences of the conditions under 
which the English and German equipments were supplied to 
the actual differences between the equipments themselves, we 
shall venture to give some very short descriptions, accompanied 
by outline sketches. 

Of the guns themselves we have little to say, because the 
question of the moment is the rapidity of manufacture, and 
it is the carriage and not the gun that is the measure or deter- 
mining factor in the date of delivery. 

The English carriage is a characteristically " Government ** 
design ; soimd and serviceable, simple in general arrangement, 
but complicated and expensive in detail. Ideas of economy 
are foreign, and often distasteful, to Government factories, and 
heads of departments are disposed to give contractors a 
monopoly of the " healthy spirit of competition *' of which so 
much is heard. It is probable that no one who had his living 
to make would design the English service carriage, for the 
simple reason that any price he could hope to get for it would 
be swallowed up in the cost of manufacture. At the same 
time we are far from wishing to make cheapness the sole, or 
even the chief, criterion. Economy is apt to become a fetish, 
and the gentlemanly high-backed extravagance of the Royal 
Arsenal may, after all, serve as a wholesome corrective to that 
parsimony which results in ineffectiveness. The present 
carriage is no doubt needlessly expensive in some points, but 
in admitting this, and that it is a little heavy, we have 

No. 8. 111. 9.— May 1901 o 


probably said the worst that can be laid to its charge. It is, 
on the whole, a good carriage, and has survived the very rough 
usage of South Africa with credit ; which is not perhaps so 
much to be wondered at, because the hiaterial and workman- 
ship put into it, whether at Woolwich or Sheffield or New- 
castle, have been of the best 

It has a short trail and is fitted with an axial spring spade. 
In travelling position this spade hinges close up under the 
trail, and is secured by a spring catch ; in action, the catch is 
withdrawn, and the spade, falling immediately into firing 
position, digs into the ground when the gun is fired. A pair 
of wire ropes attach the spade to a strong coiled spring, which 
is compressed by the recoil of gun and carriage. This spade 
holds its position, more or less, on firing; the spring in 
extending returns the gun to approximately its original posi- 
tion: and the arrangement has proved practical and reliable 
in the time of need. 

Each side is composed of a jointless steel angle frame of 
varying thickness, with a thin steel plate riveted to it. The 
sides are held apart by a top and bottom plate, also riveted to 
the steel angle frame, and the carriage thus forms a strong 
box-girder beam. The axle-tree, a hollow tube of large 
diameter in the middle, and tapering towards the ends, but 
having its walls of one thickness throughout, could probably be 
simplified with advantage, but is at least perfectly trustworthy 
in its present form. 

The wheels are undoubtedly the most difficult part of the 
whole equipment to make, and by their exigencies do much to 
limit rapidity of manufacture. They are of large (6 ft) 
diameter, and made of wood as regards spokes and felloes. 
The felloes are of ash, and the spokes of oak, cleft, not sawn 
from the log ; while the specification provides that all is to be 
of the best seasoned English wood, a material which, quite 
apart from its cost, is exceedingly difficult to obtain. The 
nave is built up of two thin stamped steel plates, arranged so 
that the spokes give the dish to the wheel, and are straight 






alternately. These wheels have been severely tested in the 
Boer war, and have proved thoroughly reliable ; while practice 
shows that damaged spokes, . if they are of wood, admit of 
much easier repair than those made of metal. 

Axle-tree boxes, each containing two rounds of ammimi- 
tion, are fitted, and can be used as seats, when manoeuvring, 
by two of the detachment. The lids of these boxes are of 
specially-toughened steel, and are raised when the gun is in 
action so as to form bullet-proof shields. Limber and waggons 
are, like the carriage, strong and good, but something extrava- 
gant in design. 

The German carriage differs toto ccelo from the English. 
The trail, instead of being built up of plates and angles, consists 
simply of two pieces of steel tube sliding one over the other 
telescopically. For firing, the tubes are pulled out ; while for 
travelling they are closed up and fixed with a pin. 

One end of the smaller or inner tube is fitted with a steel 
bracket to carry the axle-tree, and to the upper part of the 
same bracket is attached a steel case covering the break 
arrangement — a combination of recoil-buffer-cylinder and 
coiled spring. On top of this case the gun recoils 42 inches 
on being fired; and when the recoil energy is absorbed, the 
spring acts and returns the gun to the firing position. A 
transverse screw admits of a traverse of 8 degrees right or 
left in relation to the carriage, so that the gun may be 
aligned on any object within this arc without moving the 
traiL The wheels (4 ft. 6 in. in diameter against the English 
5 ft.) are entirely of metal. The advantages claimed for the 
carriage are lightness and great steadiness during firing. It 
is said (and we have no reason to doubt it) that ''jump" is 
so completely eliminated that a coin placed on the rim of one 
of the wheels will not be shaken off by the shock of firing. 
This result is obtained by the unusual length of the trail 
when fully extended, in combination with the great recoil 
allowed to the gun. But in this connection it is worth 
remarking that neither a long trail nor a long recoil is a 


novelty. Such a system has been constantly under considera- 
tion by the English service, and as constantly rejected on 
account of certain disadvantages which have been supposed to 
attend its use. 

There are several points in the design which lend themselves 
to criticism. As a broad principle, the wholesale use of tubes 
in the construction is to be condemned. Tubes are from the 
very method of their manufacture much more liable to flaws, 
and such flaws of material are far less easy of detection in tubes 
than is the case with plates. 

Again, it is impossible to believe that the telescopic trail 
could continue to work long under service conditions. A very 
slight injury would suffice to throw it out of gear ; the impact 
of a shell splinter, or even of a bullet, would probably render it 
imserviceable. If such injury occurred when the trail was in the 
extended position, and the tubes could not be closed, the gun 
might indeed be limbered up and dragged ofl^ the field, but any 
manceuvring would be impossible. To any one, then, con- 
sidering the matter, these questions naturally present them- 
selves : was this carriage ever submitted to the German War 
Office; were any experiments with it carried out by the 
German Grovernment with a view to its adoption in the Im- 
perial service ; and was one of the reasons for its rejection the 
extreme liability to damage of the telescopic trail ? It should 
not be difficult to ascertain whether such trials took place, and 
what was the result of them ; and these are points on which 
we all have a right to information. In any case it seems 
difficult to explain why, if the carriage is a good one, its 
makers have been so altruistic as to hand it over to EngUnd 
instead of reserving it for home consumption. 

The wheels are in every respect a contrast to those hitherto 
approved for our service. The English wheel is of large 
(5 ft) diameter, because a large wheel is considered to be 
springy, and little sensitive to the shock of small obstacles in 
travelling ; and it is built of weod, because wood is less liable 
than metal to be damaged by shell fire, and if damaged 19 


more easily repaired. The German wheel is 4 ft. 6 in. in 
diameter, is built entirely of metal, and from the nature of its 
construction is of marked rigidity. Thus any sudden shock it 
encounters is transmitted direct to the axle-tree without 
cushioning, and the result (as we shall presently point out) is 
fracture of the axle. It is built up of a tubular steel rim 
joined to a central cast steel nave or hub, by steel tubular 
spokes, and if a spoke breaks the whole wheel must be taken 
to pieces before it can be mended. Such repairs can only be 
carried out by skilled mechanics, and experience has shown 
that the Boer siege guns (of French origin) which were fitted 
with metal wheels were continually being put out of action by 
injuries to their wheels. It may be remarked that these steel 
wheels are almost identical in weight (about 1^ cwt.) with 
the wooden English pattern, so that in spite of the smaller 
diameter no saving of weight is effected, but the employment 
of such material does effect an enormous saving in the time of 
manufacture, as Mr. Brodrick's advisers should have been 
candid enough to tell him. 

As regards workmanship the foreign carriage admits of no 
comparison with the English ; the difference is amazing, and 
apparent to the most casual observer. The German equipment 
entirely lacks the precision and finish which we are accustomed 
to associate with military work, and in general appearance 
suggests an agricultural implement rather than a gun 

Turning from questions of design to practical results, we 
shall find, and shall not be surprised to find, that a veil is dis- 
creetly drawn over the performances of the German material 
in England. But facts are gradually transpiring. Only a 
small number of the guns and carriages have been issued to the 
service, and of these a terribly serious percentage (probably 
more than 50 per cent) have broken down under peace condi- 
tions. No '' trials " in the ordinary sense of that word have as 
yet been carried out, and the accidents (and those of the 
gravest nature) have happened in the routine of the barrack 


square, in railway transport, or in ordinary road marching. 
The point of failure is, for the most part, the axle. This has 
broken at the place where a socket hole of 2*75 inches diameter 
is formed in it to receive the pivot of the traversing gear, and 
no artillery officer can feel any confidence that a single one of 
all these 108 carriages would survive ten minutes' travel over 
any really rough ground. 

Mr. Brodrick, repljdng to a question in the House of 
Commons on February 28 last, admits that *' fourteen axles 
have cracked in travelling, and the carriages have been returned 
to Woolwich " to be fitted with new axles. He does not say, 
as he should have said, that only a small number have been 
issued to the service at all ; but leaves it to be inferred that 
the fourteen are the only cases of failure out of the whole 
order. The breaking of an axle, involving as it does the falling 
of the gun on the ground, is an irreparable disaster. Not only 
would the gun be flung out of action, but it must of necessity 
be abandoned then and there ; and this is the accident of which 
the Secretary of State for War speaks so light-heartedly that 
one would imagine it was the scraping of a little paint that was 
being discussed. Ea: pede Herculem, we shall now be able to 
appraise more accurately the true value of Mr. Brodrick's 
remarks when he speaks of *^ the threads of some of the breech 
screws having become burred, owing to the guns being used 
for drill purposes, without drill cartridges — a slight damage 
which can be repaired locally." We hope the damage may be 
indeed as sUght as the Secretary of State would have us 
beUeve. The point is of too technical a nature to be here dis- 
cussed, but in any case the artillerist will recognise in the 
statement that the German design has failed to foresee a diffi- 
culty which has been specifically provided against in the 
English Government pattern. 

We shall not discuss the gun as apart from the carriage, 
because we hope to revert to it at some later period, when 
extended experiments have given more proof of its value. 
We must be content for the present to rely on the assurance 


that it ** shoots with remarkable accuracy," and to stop our ears 
to any discouraging rumours; but there is a wide field for 
investigation as to the quality of the ammunition, and especially 
of the fuses, supplied with these foreign guns. 

Let us recapitulate. It has been agreed that orders to 
foreign countries for material of war ve, in principle, illicit, 
and can only be justified by the considerations that the neces- 
sities of the country are exceedingly inrgent, that the material 
offered by foreign producers is good, that equally good material 
cannot be procured equally quickly from home sources. 

With regard to the first condition we are prepared to admit 
that at the time these orders were given the country was 
passing through a crisis stif&ciently grave to necessitate an 
immediate supply of war material. The second condition, that 
the material offered by the foreign producer should be good, 
has not been fulfilled; for no unbiased authority could be 
found to say that the German field carriages are serviceable. 
It is absolutely certain that the axle-tree of every single carriage 
must be replaced, and it must be remembered that the manu- 
facturers have no record of past successes which might inspire 
confidence. It is said that, in view of the failure of the material 
supplied to England, they have since changed and improved the 
design ; and the present order may fairly be considered as an 
enormously costly experiment, carried out by the English War 
Office for the benefit of the Rheinische Metalwaarenfabrik. 
The tyro in gun-making is no more likely to escape error than 
the tjrro in any other art ; he has his trade to leam, and the 
reflection that this firm had never hitherto made any field 
material should have been sufficient at least to inspire the 
War Office with unusual caution. 

We have been at some pains to elaborate the difference of 
conditions of supply, because they gravely affect the third 
question, as to whether the material ordered abroad could not 
have been equally quickly supplied at home. We have shown 
how this difference of condition has handicapped the English 
producer ; and we maintain that if Woolwich or the English 


finns had been commissioned to supply a carriage of a similar 
type and under similar conditions, any one of the three could 
have supplied at least an equal number in at least as short a 
time as was required by the German manufacturer. 

Such carriages would, moreover, have been serviceable. 

Mr. Brodrick used the speedy delivery of the foreign order 
to point the moral of German manufacturing superiority, but 
we should like to draw his attention to the fact tiiat of all these 
carriages, so quickly delivered, not one is now fit for service, 
and that all must have their axles replaced, even if they are 
ever found sufficiently reliable to be issued to the service at all 
— a sad commentary on the system that would sacrifice quality 
to quickness of deUvery. 

We have not to consider the interests of Woolwich or 
of the two English firms of whom we have been forced to 
make such fi*equent mention. They are no doubt able to look 
after their own interests, and we are not pleading the cause of 
A, B or C. The question must be put on the much broader 
basis of the trade of this country in general, and of the ability 
of English manufacture to supply English needs. It is sad 
enough to see our engineering superiority shouldered and 
jostled out of the way at every turn ; it is sad for English- 
men who have had the privilege of a residence in Grermany to 
compare the progress of that country with the stagnation of 
our own ; it is sad to see the snobbish '* made in Genoany," 
that was meant for a warning and reproach, becoming gradu- 
ally a trade-mark of excellence ; and it is surely enough to 
give us pause when the Secretary of State for War of the 
country of Stephenson and Armstrong admits that he has to 
turn to unknown German makers for his guns. 

Mr. Brodrick's brilliant exposition of army reform {qtwd 
Difeliciter v^rtant), and his stalwart delivery in the House of 
Commons, on a more recent occasion, shows that when left to 
himself his views are wide and statesmanlike, and that he has 
the courage to hold them firmly. It is the more pity to see 
him so ill-advised on the question under discussion. 


We remember once to have seen a ruined Temple of Isi«, 
where there was a pedestal on which formerly stood an oracular 
image of the goddess. The figure had long been missing, but 
in the built-up base was pointed out a little pipe that led away 
by twists and turns to a secret chamber. Here used to hide a 
priest whose voice it was that gave fateful utterance through 
the idoFs mouth. Real responsibility is not always easily 





IN one of his classical popular lectures, Helmholtz expresses 
his opinion on the national aspects of scientific investigation 
in the following eloquent words : 

In fact, men of science form, as it were, an organised army labouring on 
behalf of the whole nation, and generally under its direction and at its expense, 
to promote industrial enterprise, to increase wealth, to adorn life, and to further 
the moral development of individual citizens. . . . We are convinced that 
whatever contributes to the knowledge of the forces of Nature, or to the 
powers of the human mind, is worth cherishing, and may, in its own due time, 
bear practical fruit, very often where we should least have expected it. 

Of the truth of the above, no one who has witnessed the 
general progress of science during the Victorian Era can fail 
to be impressed. And yet, so far as our o^vn country is con- 
cerned, the statement that the labours of English men of 
science are carried on either under national direction or at 
national cost cannot be said to be the true one. In an interesting 
discussion on this question of the attitude of the State 
towards scientific investigation, which recently took place 
at Baltimore, Professor Osbom pointed out that a certain 
necessary class of State expenditure may be considered as being 
in the nature of unproductive investments, which look to the 
future rather than to the present requirements of the nation. 

'' Conspicuous amongst these are the funds invested in 

' m. * T" 


education and science." He then proceeds to give his opinion 
as to the attitude of various States with regard to this provision 
for future needs. 

Of European countries [he says], Germany places in its budget the 
largest unproductive investments of this kind; France is not far behind, 
England is perhaps fourth, and affords a conspicuous example of blindness and 
fatuity in the matter of unproductive investment ; she has, it is true, established 
textile schools, but has not sufficiently supported technical schools ; the cost of 
a single battleship would establish four splendidly equipped technical schools ; 
England secures the ship and postpones the construction of the schools. All 
this is through no fault of her prophets of science, who have been as persistent 
as Jeremiah in foretelling the consequences which are sure to follow. 

One of these " prophets of science " — ^the distinguished astro- 
nomer who now presides over the Royal Society — expressed 
his views at our last anniversary dinner as follows : 

Stein wisely said, " What is put into the schools of a country comes out in 
the manhood of the nation." A primary and immediate need of this country 
is the putting of more science into the education of the country — not the 
teaching of the mere facts of science, which, by itself is of little use, but the 
training of the intellect by strict scientific methods and principles. In the 
coming century the race will not be to the country of the athlete, nor to the 
country of the classicist, but to the country where men, having been trained 
under the rigorous methods of science, have the knowledge, and especially the 
alertness of mind, to enrich themselves out of the open and inexhaustible 
treasury of Nature. To this end not only reformed and more thorough 
secondary education is necessary, but technical colleges where higher 
theoretical is combined with practical training, and, if I may be so bold, I 
would add reformed methods of teaching in our higher public schools. It can 
only be through a higher scientific education and more scientific methods of 
scholastic teaching that the whole community can be awakened to the supreme 
importance of science to every one of its enterprises, personal and national ; 
in a word, to the greatness and prosperity of the Empire. 

Listen again to the magic words of another of our '' major 
prophets/' alas! no longer amongst us in the body but still 
ever with us in spirit, our dear and revered friend Huxley, who 
never wearied of well-doing in the great cause of England's 


We are at present [said Huxley^ speaking at Manchester some years ago] 
in the swim of one of those vast movements in which^ with a population fiir in 
excess of that which we can feed^ we are saved from a catastrophe through 
the impossibility of feeding them, solely by our possession of a fair share of the 
markets of the world. And in order that that fair share may be retained it is 
absolutely necessary that we should be able to produce commodities which we 
can exchange with food-growing people, and which they will take, rather than 
those of our rivals, on the ground of their greater cheapness or of their greater 
excellence. That is the whole story. . . . Our sole chance of succeeding in a 
competition, which must constantly become more and more severe, is that our 
people shall not only have the knowledge and skill which are required, but 
that they shall have the will and the energy and the honesty, without which 
neither knowledge nor skill can be of any permanent avail This is what I 
mean by a stable social condition. 

The effect of the want of appreciation amongst us of the 
methods making for progress, in contradiction to the acknow- 
ledgment of the force of such methods as exhibited by our 
competitors, is most strongly put in an article by Professor 
Fleming — one of our first experts in electrical engineering — 
lately published in the "Nineteenth Century and After." 
Fleming points out that owing to the legislative shackles 
applied in this country to the business of electrical supply, 
that business, as Edison exclaimed, has been throttled ! 

So that now we find that we have to go for much of our knowledge, and 
for many of our materials and machines, to the experienced inventors and 
manufacturers in the United States. They are past masters in the art ; we are 
just learning the business. 

Then the professor in a few powerfiil words shows — as so 
many others have done, amongst whom none have more 
successfully pleaded for the cause than Sir Norman Lockyer — 
that our educational system is defective. 

The fiill and careful training of the observational and creative fikcultiea is 
still greatly neglected. In secondary schools too much attention is paid to 
words and the grammar of dead or living languages. Natural and experimental 
science takes a second place. It is to be feared that the tendency of much so- 
called technical education is the manufacture of mediocrities rather than the 
expert training of experts by experts to the highest possible efficiency. . . . 
Meanwhile many of our higher colleges of university rank are crippled in their 


Applied Science Faculties by want of laboratory accommodation, or of funds to 
support higher teaching and research. What is required is not more abundant 
mediocrity but a fully sufficient supply of those who will be captains of industry. 
The persons who need technical education are the masters much more than 
the men. In the terrible contest for superiority with the United States and 
Germany towards which this country is advancing, nothing will avail us unless 
the young men who are to be masters of works, foremen, heads of departments, 
and directors of industries based on applications of scientific knowledge, are 
equipped with the most thorough knowledge of the arts they direct. The law 
of evolution wOl mercilessly eliminate the unfit. . . . That the question of a 
Teaching University for London took so long to settle was a national disgrace. 
Even now the proper organisation of its technical side will be a work of time. 
Meanwhile London has nothing to compare with the Berlin Technische Hoch- 
schule with its 5000 students, and a teaching staff of professors, assistants and 
workmen, numbered by hundreds. 

Next hear. the opinion of another expert, this time Dr. Mel- 
dola, the well-known Professor of Chemistry at Finsbury. He 
writes to me of what he saw and heard at the Paris Exhibition 
concerning German progress, in reply to a question which I 
knew he could answer with effect, why has Germany all her 
own way in the newer chemical industries, worth many 
millions a year, and why are the English out of it? 

The reasons for the great progress in German chemical industry are obvious 
to aU who are acquainted with the facts of the case, and who have kept watch 
on the various hnes of development. It is often stated that the main cause of 
this lies in the intimate association between science and industry in that 
country. This, however, scarcely embodies the whole truth, inasmuch as before 
there can be an association between science and industry, there must be science 
to begin with, and it is the superiority in the scientific training of the German 
manufacturers, as compared with that of our own men, which has imbued them 
with the true spirit of progress, which recognises the essential principle that 
success depends on alliance with science. Our people in the same position are 
by no means alive to the true state of things, and only call in scientific assist- 
ance when some branch of industry is in extremis. The reason why we hear of 
large staflb of highly trained chemists and of splendidly equipped research 
laboratories attached to Continental factories, is because the heads of these 
foreign firms, unlike our own, know the necessity for these things, and owe 
that knowledge to their own scientific training. The extraordinary develop- 
ment in Germany of the coal-tar industry may be said to have culminated in 
their exhibit ia the Paris Exhibition; and the lesson conveyed by this exhibit 


illustrates in a forcible way the methods of advance as practised in Germany. 
The prime factor is originality — creativeness^ leading to the discovery of new 
products and processes. Then comes the technical skill enabling the new 
discoveries to be worked out in practice to the best advantage. Both these 
factors^ originality and technical skill, are fostered and developed by the 
German systems of education and co-operation. This latter is important 
because many discoveries which are utilised in the German factories are made 
in the Universities by men of a purely academic stamp ; upon such men the ever- 
watchful eye of German industry is set, always alert to seise hold of discoveries 
which offer prospects of technical application. No instance of this co- 
operation is more striking than the discovery of the synthesis of indigo. This, 
as all the world knows, was a purely scientific piece of work of the celebrated 
Munich professor, A. von Baeyer. But this discovery having once been made, 
the Germans for twenty years never relaxed their efforts in the investigation of 
the processes by which this colouring-matter could be produced, with the 
result that at the present moment artificial indigo is now manufactured by the 
Badische Company at a price which enables them to compete with the natural 
product. The difficulties which were encountered were great and numerous, 
and such as could only be overcome by the patient application of the highest 
theoretical training combined with the most persistent practical skill. This 
achievement is one of which German industry may well be proud, but added to 
this are other developments such as the sjmthetical production of essential oils 
and essences used in perfumery, of artificial- products for pharmaceutical 
purposes, &c. 

When these things become generally known they will 
help, if indeed anything can, to open the eyes of the people of 
this country to the methods by which chemical industry is 
being advanced abroad. Comparing this position with that of 
British exhibitors in Paris, Professor Meldola concludes that 
during the last twenty years the only progress — ^speaking gener- 
ally — visible in this country is not, as is the case in Grermany, 
the introduction of new products or processes, but the improve- 
ment of existing ones, and the increase of production on a scale 
larger than was formerly the case. The main cause — ^he thinks 
— of the stagnation in some branches and the retrogression in 
others may fairly be ascribed to the absence of chemical 
originality amongst our chemical manufacturers. The advance- 
ment in chemical industry is due to the displacement of the 
old by new and cheaper products and processes. A stage is at 


one time or another reached when no tinkering-up of old 
processes can save them from extinction. This is unfortmiately 
too often the history of many of our chemical factories. They 
go on without assistance or prevision until a commercial crisis 
arises, then begins a tinkering-up process to save that which a 
competent chemist might have foreseen was in the course of 
natural and irremediable decay. 

To conclude, let me give the evidence of a man of busi- 
ness, Sir Swire Smith, who was my colleague on the Royal 
Commission on Technical Instruction, and with whom I visited 
the leading schools and industrial establishments of the Con- 
tinent several years ago. Referring to the very superior 
engineering exhibits from Switzerland at Paris last year, and 
recalling his conversations with employers and workmen, 
eighteen years ago, as to the value of the high scientific 
training of engineers, he writes to me as foUows: 

In the works visited^ practically all the head men had gone through 
the Polytechnic of Ziirich^ or the Technicum of Winterthur. One important 
employer expressed the opinion that the higher education of young men 
dependent on their wages for a living had been quite overdone. At that time 
he was emplojdng several scientists, who had passed the highest examinations 
at the Polytechnic of Zurich, and were working as ordinary joume3rmen. There 
were no openings for them in the higher departments, and in his opinion their 
costiy education — paid for by the State — ^was practically wasted. Yet I was 
subsequently informed that these young men, who had taken high degrees and 
who were working in the ranks, had been sought out, and engaged for superior 
positions at high salaries in England. Here the capable Schweitzer was available, 
although it would surely be more satisfactory that our important situations 
should be filled by trained Englishmen rather than by foreigners. I need not 
tell you that the high character of the Swiss exhibits, and the great reputation of 
the exhibitors, were due to that combination of Science and Practice on the part 
of masters and men, especially the former, which we call technical education. 

But to me the most interesting exhibit was that of Messrs. Schuckert & Co. 
of Nuremberg. In 1873 the head of this firm was a working man with only a 
small shop and bench for himself, but he was a man of science. In 1882 he 
exhibited electrical appliances, which the Technical Commissioners saw at the 
Nuremberg Exhibition, and employed about forty workmen. In the Nuremberg 
Exhibition of 1896 the exhibits of this firm were of the highest importance, and 
we visited the worksand found them magnificently equipped for all kinds of 


electrical engineerings for railways, lighting, lighthouses, Bcc, and giving 
employment to 3500 men. From a handful of employees within recent memory, 
these colossal works now give employment to 8500 men, and I was informed 
that at the present time the orders on their books represent over £4,000,000, a 
large share being for England. To what is the great progress and success of 
this firm attributed ? Very largely, I was told, to the &ct that the constant 
demand for highly trained experts in electrical science, which such works 
require for heads of departments, for making and carrying out the mathematical 
calculations, for taking charge of their undertakings at home and abroad, was 
being supplied without difficulty from the polytechnic schools of Germany and 
Switzerland, which through the noble system of promotion by merit, were 
drafting from the Elementary, Secondary, and Higher Schools the young men 
of capacity and talent from every town and village in each countiy. 

But on the absolute necessity of the highest scientific 
training on the part of those who are expected to take the 
direction of our industries, I have testimony even more con- 
vincing than the above. 

Mr. Andrew Carnegie, who was bom a poor boy at Dun 
fermline, has built up with his partners at Pittsburg, the most 
colossal manufacturing business that the worid has known 
under private ownership. In addition to unequalled knowledge 
and experience of the iron and steel industry, Mr. Carnegie 
has a marvellous power of getting at the heart of any difficult 
question. In a letter to Mr. Chamberlain, notifying a gift of 
£50,000 to the Birmingham University for a department of 
eBgineeriiig. he writes : 

After the members of the Iron and Steel Institute had returned to New 
York from their tour of observation through the United States the officials 
dined with me. ... A partner in one of your foremost steel companies said, 
" Mr. Carnegie^ it is not your wonderful machinery, nor even your unequalled 
supplies of minerals, which we have most cause to envy. It is something worth 
both of these combined : the class of scientific experts you have to manage 
every department of your works. IVe have no corresponding cUus in England," 
Never were truer words spoken. Now this class you must sooner or later 
secure, if Britain is to remain one of the principal manufacturing nations. 

It is however needless at the present day to dwell longer 
on the necessity of putting our educational house in order. 
The question of the moment is how that reform can be best 


accomplished. This need is acknowledged on all hands. Our 
statesmen have at last spoken out. The Duke of Devonshire 
has indeed long ago done so, and on numerous occasions has 
shown that he fully appreciates the momentous issues which 
lie before us. More recently Lord Rosebery and Mr. Chamber- 
lain have each spoken with words of wisdom and of foresight 
on this great question of the hour. It is however a far cry from 
words to deeds ; to preach is easier than to practise, and what 
our statesmen have now to show is that they are determined 
to make a successfiil effort to turn into a reality what will, 
unless they use such efforts, remain a mere pious opinion. 

But whilst men of science have long been unanimous in 
expressing their views on the necessity of reconstructing our 
educational methods, and, whilst some of our prominent states- 
men recognise this necessity, we are still far from having 
convinced those who hold the higher educational reins, and 
who direct the pace and route of the journey. Methods which 
have existed, and have been in sole possession for centuries, are 
hard to disturb. Men who have been brought up from child- 
hood without any notion of scientific method, who look back 
to the time of Pericles as the golden age, and to whom the 
commissicm of a false quantity is a more heinous offence than 
ignorance of the simplest and most far-reaching of Nature s 
laws, such men can hardly be expected to look with a favour- 
able eye upon innovations, or to help to develop science, the 
teaching of which they do not appreciate, to the detriment, 
as they think, of that of classics, which they do understand and 
value. "Don't imagine," they may say," that we are antagonistic 
to science teaching, for that is not the case." Yes, that may be, 
but ask them to give up an hour a day from Latin and Greek 
to science, and they at once cry " non possumus." In short, 
whilst they do not decry scientific methods, they still deny to its 
supporters much chance of proving their success. The result 
is that, what with the medicevalism of Oxford and the classicism 
of the Head-masters, science teaching in our highest secondary 
education is at the present moment in anything but a satisfactory 

No. 8. 111. 2.— May 19OI d 


condition. And no radical change can be made except by the 
complete reconstruction of one or more of our public schools 
on the basis of modem requirements in such a way that the 
balance between scientific and linguistic methods shall be more 
equitably adjusted than has hitherto been the case. But such 
a reconstruction is difficult, if not impossible, until pubUc 
opinion on the subject is crystallised. What does the average 
man in the street know or care about education beyond -what 
he thinks will buy him bread and butter to-day ? And is the 
parent — not in the street — or the average member of Parlia- 
ment, whether peer or commoner, any further advanced? 
Those who know the House of Commons know that the 
** education fads " empty the House, unless, indeed, the debate 
assumes the character of a fight between the supporters of 
clericalism on the one hand, and of free opinion on the other. 
Under these conditions, then, it behoves all who have the 
matter at heart to keep " paging away,*' to remember that " it 
is dogged as does it," and to lose no opportunity, through evil 
report and through good report, of influencing, both by word 
and deed, the mass of our countrymen. 

Let us now contrast what is being done elsewhere with 
what we do at home. Let us get an idea of the extent to 
which in Germany the highest technical training is carried on, 
in State supported institutions called Technical Universities or 
High Schools of Science. I take from official sources the 
number of students pursuing during the session 1899-1900 
a regular three or four years course of study in engineering, 
civil, mechanical and electrical, in chemistry and physics pure 
and applied, and in mathematics, in the following ten great 
schools : 

Number of BagaUa* 

Students, 1899-1900 

Berlin Technical University or High School 


Munich „ „ 


Darmstadt „ „ 


Carlsruhe „ ,p 


Zurich ,. •« 



Number of Regular 

Students, 1899-1900 

Hanover Technical University or High School 



9f >i 



w w 



f> 9> 



i> 33 


Or a total of 11»447, whereas ten years ago the total number 
of such students was barely one-half of the present number, an 
evidence of the enormous progress recently made in the appre- 
ciation of the value of the instruction given in these schools. 
Anything, it is often said, may be proved by figures, and 
nothing is so misleading as statistics. And an answer might 
be attempted to the above, that the students in our polytechnics 
and technical schools are quite as numerous. Yes — but there 
are students and students. The elementary instruction given, 
chiefly in evening classes, to the boys who flock to our technical 
schools is all very well, and so far as it goes is good and usefiil, 
but it cannot compare with the continued and developed teaching 
received by the eleven thousand regular students in the German 
pol}rtechnica. The real comparison is not with our so-called 
polytechnics and other technical schools, but with the University 
Colleges, and with such institutions as the Royal College of 
Science and the Central College of City and the Guilds of 
London. In these institutions under real masters of the subjects, 
the higher technical an<i scientific training given compares 
favourably with that in any of the foreign schools, for^^t^land 
does not lack, and has never lacked for men of light and leading 
in any of the highest walks of science, whether as originators or 
as expositors. But in these institutions, few and far between as 
they are, the students do not number one-tenth of the Germans. 
This is partly due to the want of adequate i^ds, but perhaps 
even more to a lack of previous systematic training owing to 
our acknowledged deficiency in secondary education. Is such a 
state of things creditable ? If the Swiss and the Germans are 
convinced, as they are, that State aid to such institutions is the 
cheapest and most secure investment of national funds as 


insurance against disaster, why should we English stand aloof ? 
Are we not actually courting the very disaster which they 
make provision to avoid ? 

But it is often said» surely if these things are so important 
to the manufacturing and commercial community, they are 
the proper persons to save themselves from destruction. Why 
should the rest of the people be taxed to support a class ? And 
there is some force in the argument If these persons can be 
induced to come forward — as indeed some have already done 
(and the names of Whitworth, Baeyer and Carnegie amongst 
others, will occur to all), and out of their superfluity give 
to their country in sufficient amount, no Government aid 
would be required, no Governmental supervision or control 
would be needed, and a real good time would be coming. But 
is this generosity, is this public spirit to be looked for in the 
near future ? 

If Englishmen of wealth — of whom there is really no 
end — would take example by their brethren across the 
pond, the thing would soon be done. Just look at the fol- 
lowing list of benefactions and gifts which some of the 
enlightened millionaires of the States have made over for the 
higher education of their compatriots. It fairly takes one's 
breath away ! 

Summary of the largest endowments contributed by private 
munificence to the Universities, Institutes and University 
Colleges of the United States. 

Chicago University ... J. D. Rockefeller ... Xl,90«,848 

Gerard College ... Stephen Gerard ... 1,458,333 

Pratt Institute ... Charles Pratt ... 750,000 

Johns Hopkins University ... Johns Hopkins ... 625,000 

Dexel Institute ... A. J. Dexel . . . 625,000 

L. Stanford University ... Leiand Stanford, jr. ... 520,833 

Cornell University ... Ezra Cornell ... 312,500 

Vanderbilt University . . . The Vanderbil ts . . . 229, 1 66 

Columbia University ... Seth Low ... 208,333 

It is estimated that a sum of no less than £82,000,000 


has been given or bequeathed by private citizens of the 
United States during recent years for the foundation and 
maintenance of universities and high schools of science in that 

Admitting that we cannot compete with the Camegies and 
the Rockefellers either in wealth or in its generous disposal, the 
difficulty with us is, after all, not so much the want of money 
as the want of will. For one case like that of Lord Iveagh, 
who gave a quarter of a million — not, it is true, for ordinary 
every-day educational purposes, but for the furtherance of 
knowledge of how to combat disease — ^for one instance like 
this we hear of dozens of men, many of whom have made their 
fortunes in trade or industry, and who decline to assist in the 
great work of helping others to do likewise. One notable 
instance of this has lately occurred, and will be in the memory 
of many. Then again we hear that there has lately been a great 
boom in Welsh coal, and the coal-owners have been rolling up 
their thousands upon thousands. On the other hand, the 
college at Cardiff is in their midst doing what it can with its 
slender means to protect the industries of that district by the 
introduction of something like a scientific spirit, and the ques- 
tion may well be asked, has it occurred to any of these rich 
coal-owners that it behoves them to dispose of a portion of their 
easily gotten wealth for the betterment of the population from 
amongst whom it has been gathered ? Is the case different 
with the coal-owners in the north ? or with the ironmasters 
who have recently had a flourishing trade? The plan of 
giving, like the Quakers, a tenth of their income for the 
advancement of their district does not seem to be a part of 
their creed. 

This being unfortunately the general state of English 
opinion, we must either wait until that opinion ripens (and 
before that occurs the fruit will be dead), or the Govern- 
ment, as the protector of national honour and well-being, 
must be made to understand that it is its duty to take the 
matter up ; and I will now venture to make a suggestion of 


a somewhat wider scope, and perhaps of a more practical 
character than that contained at the end of my article in the 
February number of this Review. It is this. The Govern- 
ment shall appoint at once a small influential commission to 
be called " The Royal Commission for Technical University 
Education.'* The number of members of this commission 
should not, I think, exceed seven. And I further venture to 
suggest that three of the members should be Lord Goschen, 
Lord Rosebery and Mr. Chamberlain — aU men who have 
shown that they have the subject at heart — ^these persons to 
have the absolute disposal of a sum of not less than £100,000 a 
year to be voted by Parliament. The recipients of grants 
from this commission shall be the Universities of London, 
Victoria (Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds), Birmingham, 
Wales (Cardiff) and Glasgow. The commission shall deter- 
mine the grants to be made in each instance, alterable, if 
necessary, after a term of not less than five years, and shall 
specify, with or without consultation with the several 
University authorities, the particular objects to which the 
grants shall be allocated, whether to founding new chairs 
or aiding the existing ones, to building and equipping new 
laboratories, or aiding existing ones, it being always under- 
stood that the funds are to be apportioned solely to the 
furtherance of learning and research of the highest Uni- 
versity type as applied to industrial pursuits in large centres 
of population. 

It will be readily understood that Oxford and Cambridge 
can never be expected to become great centres for technical 
instruction. They have their special work to do, and if that is 
properly done it is amply sufficient for all their energies. As 
to the Scottish Universities, they already receive £70,000 a 
year in the form of Gtovemment grants. But if they are to 
compete successfully with the newer English Universities, they 
must move from their ancestral ways and change their system 
of a five months session and a seven months vacation. This, it 
is satisfactory to learn, is now about to be accomplished. 


Glasgow, the second largest city in the Empire and the seat 
and centre of vast industrial undertakings, is about to put 
its University on a satisfactory and modern footing as regards 
its teaching of applied science, and it may therefore fairly 
claim a share of the Government fund, the allotment of which 
I have ventured to propose. 

H. E. RoscoE. 




I have seen a great deal that is very true^ doubtless^ in the papers^ about 
the union that this war has created between Great Britain and her Colonies. 
I have not seen so much of what I believe to be equally true^ of the way in 
which the war has pulled together various classes in the United Kingdom. If 
you lie two or three hours behind a stone being shot at with Tommy Atkins, at 
the end of that time perhaps you realise that he is as good a man as you are, 
or better, and if when you come back to England you forget that, because you 
wear broadcloth and he wears fustian, you have missed, you have not gripped, 
one of the best lessons of this war. — Lieut. -General Ian Hamilton at Both, 
March 9, 1901. 

TH£S£ manly and generous words directly raise the 
subject of my paper ; a subject of which little is heard in 
the prevailing controversies on army reform, but which is of 
high significance in the field. What the general says is true. 
What I wish to urge is that it ought to prove more universally 
true, and that the lesson he speaks of would have greater 
practical efficacy if it were learnt at home, and not merely 
taught, as he puts it, by war. 

It may be said, without unfairness, that generally speaking 
when the relations between officers and men are bad, it is the 
fault of the officers. It is not always true, but it is true often 
enough to make it just that the men's side should be heard, 
for apart altogether from the obligations of the service, which 


apply to both classes equally, the men are from the very nature 
of the case the voiceless and obscure class. And where the 
fault may be equally divided, it is for the officers, as the 
directing and educating force, to bring about an improvement 
Nothing probably will be heard of the question unless some of 
the better educated volunteers, whom the exigencies of this 
war have drawn into the ranks of the fighting line, give the 
public, when they are free to speak as civilians again, their 
experiences of their life as private soldiers and the conclusions 
they have drawn from it. Not that such conclusions should 
be rashly accepted. Such men must speak with coolness and 
sobriety. All sense of personal grievance, if there has been 
any, must be obliterated. They must have thrown themselves 
wholly into the life of the regular soldier, adopted his outlook 
and his standards, and rigidly limited their own ideas of what 
is right and necessary to the just requirements of the class of 
which they are temporary members. They will then have the 
advantage of being able to see both sides of the question, by 
natural affinity with the class from which officers are drawn, 
and by sympathy and familiarity with the life and feelings of 
the private soldier. This double attitude is not so difficult to 
acquire as it might be thought. In fact, any difficulty in it 
comes principally from the side you would least expect, that of 
re-identifpng oneself with the habits of mind of the class one 
left in enlisting. I frankly admit this at the outset, because 
its result may be a tendency to do an injustice to the officers. 
To see through the eyes of the private is a habit that is learnt 
with remarkable ease. There is a magic in military discipline 
that changes a man's whole nature from the moment of enlist- 
ment, and which, while narrowmg his horizon to a limited field 
of submission in immediate detail and duty, at the same time 
changes all his standards and all his ways of looking at things, 
so that when he comes to meet and mix with the soldiers of 
the regular army, he soon finds that, unless cursed with a great 
lack of adaptability, he can see as they see, feel as they feel, 
just as he certainly lives as they live. I think myself that this 


is one of the greatest privileges gained by volunteer service in 
the war. To understand other people's lives is always good, 
but in these days, when the army has assumed such high 
importance in our national fabric, it is a great thing that so 
many civilians of all classes and conditions should have had 
practical insight into the life of the army on active service. 

It may be fairly asked whether a volunteer serving in a 
strictly volunteer unit has lived the life of the regular soldier. 
It may be suspected that his life is an easier one, that his 
relations with his officers are different, that discipUne is less 
strict, that the standard of comfort is higher and of work 
lower. Any idea of this sort is false, as all would agree who 
have had experience of the war. Whatever be the case at 
home, incorporation in the army for active service has an 
instant and magnetic effect in extending the traditions of the 
army to its new material. The inexorable conditions of 
warfare in far off wildernesses do the rest. War is a great 
leveller, and in that hard, hungry life, volunteers and regulars 
have the same interests, hardships, and needs. I should say, 
though, that in speaking of volunteers 1 mean primarily 
volunteers from the home country, as opposed to colonials. 
For both, of course, the material conditions are the same, but 
it is well known, in South Africa at any rate, that in many 
colonial corps (including those which have done the best work) 
discipline is laxer (not in a bad sense), independence in the 
ranks greater, and the spirit governing the relation of officers 
and men entirely different to that in our army. The contrast 
is only a reflection of the broader difference of temperament 
between colonial communities and the mother country. A 
system which will suit one will not suit the other. I refer to 
the point because this difference in spirit makes what I am 
going to write about, to some extent inapplicable to colonial 
corps, who have solved the question in their own way. 

I have said that a volunteer who has seen active service 
may speak usefully for his comrade the regular. It is never- 
theless a serious disadvantage for him never to have had 


experience of a soldier s life in times of peace ; I mean any 
experience worth anything for this purpose. The home tram- 
ing of the most zealous volunteer at the best gives him little of 
such knowledge. It is true that so utterly different are the 
conditions of peace and war, that it may almost be said that 
war is as great a change for the regular as for the volunteer. 
Nevertheless, the evil I am going to speak about undoubtedly 
has its roots in the system as it has grown up in times of peace, 
though it may be only visible and actual in war. Here is our 
disadvantage. But it only affects the ultimate causes. The 
evil is on the surface, and its immediate remedy. I shall 
suggest an opinion as to the causes, too, but only working 
on such general information as a layman has, aided by the 
experience of one (and the more important) side of a soldier s 
life, active service. 

By officers, I mean regimental officers, with whom the men 
have more or less direct relations. The character and example 
of a general may have a very great influence on the officers of 
his brigade, but how far this is the case a private has little 
means of knowing. To the latter, the general is a far-off 
personage, whose personality may indeed have a potent effect 
in inspiring confidence, endurance, and cheerfulness in his 
troops. A chance word of praise from him passed from mouth 
to mouth round the camp-fires when the day is over, and never 
forgotten, may make a whole regiment eat its biscuits and 
smoke its pipes with greater relish, and hear the order for 
reveUU at 2 a.m. with greater equanimity. But generally 
speaking, the content and morale of a corps depends on its 
own regimental officers, even if from causes beyond their 
control marches are long and ceaseless, expeditions fruitless, 
and hardships correspondingly greater. 

To avoid aU misconception, let me say that I am not 
concerned with the prpfessional training of officers for their 
work in war. Indirectly it enters into my subject in a way I 
shall afterwards point out, but with the general question I have 
nothing to do. I think it is generally agreed that the training 


of officers leaves something to be desired, and its deficiencies 
have been proved in the present war. The same applies to the 
men. But from the point of view of the men, skill in leader- 
ship is not, paradoxical as it may seem, by any means the most 
important quality in an officer. Neither is personal gallantry. 
The latter is universal enough to be taken for granted. And 
in any case bravery is a subject not much talked about there. 
It is the conmion thing in all ranks. For the rest, it would be 
impertinent at this stage of the war to add a fresh eulogy on 
the gallantry of British officers. It did not need to be proved ; 
but it has been nobly proved again and again ; and it is 
unquestioned. But, it may be asked, if professional ability 
and personal gallantry are excluded, what more is there to 
discuss ? There is a great deal more. War is not all fighting, 
nor even manoeuvring for fights. This is a truth often not 
fully realised at home. Fights are only incidents more or less 
conmion in a soldier s life. There are of course large numbers 
permanently stationed on the lines of communication and in 
garrison towns, but even in the many militant columns that 
move about in pursuit of the enemy, or are engaged in clearing 
the country, burning farms, driving in cattle, or other military 
operations, a day's hard fighting is a comparatively rare thing. 
When it comes, it may be very hard, and there may be lighter 
relief of skirmishes in which a fraction of the force is engaged, 
but for the average individual man it is true to say that when 
once the novelty is worn off, fighting is one of the least 
important elements in his life. It is impossible to imderstand 
the conditions which go to make up the efficiency of a field 
force, unless it is realised that there is always a long 
monotonous background of commonplace workaday life, 
where common physical needs and trials are the really absorb- 
ing things for the ordinary soldier. The more so because the 
operations in which he is engaged may be a complete mystery 
to him ; forced marches may seem purposeless and fruitless ; 
the object and method of a fight itself are probably unin- 
telligible to him. Of the general progress of the war he 


knows nothing. What he does know is that he is tired and 
hungry. If he is personally engaged on any definite day the 
difference to him may be very little. Momentous questions of 
sleep, baccy, scraps of biscuit, the chance of a chicken, the 
prospect of fatigue or outpost duty when he gets in still 
occupy his mind, together with a score of little material details 
of work or physical comfort, which affect him every day alike. 
I do not mean that such things affect his keenness and ardour 
in fighting. Fighting and the rest are all in the day's work. 
He may indeed, if he is lucky, find a day's fighting a positive 
rest and relief. He will certainly have less distance to march, 
and mere mechanical marching " bulks big " in a soldier's life. 
If an infantry soldier he may be in support, and lie on his 
back snoozing and smoking peaceably half tlie day, never 
under fire or firing. If a mounted man, he may be holding 
horses or watching a flank with plenty of leisure. As an artillery 
driver I found, rather to my surprise, that I had more leisure 
during a hard day's fighting than on a day of simple marching, 
or of rest in a standing camp with its many necessary duties 
of grooming, harness cleaning, grazing horses, and miscellaneous 
" fatigues." This is only a digression to bring into relief the 
disproportion between fighting as it is read of in paragraphs in 
the newspapers and the long unwritten story behind. The 
disproportion is reflected, of course, in the lists of casualties 
from wounds and disease respectively, and still more in the 
unclassified wastage that is constantly in progress in the shape 
of men who are not wounded or dangerously ill, but just used 
up, worn out. 

I have said enough to make clear what I meant in saying 
that skill and gallantry cannot alone nmke a good and poptdar 
ofiicer. " 'E don't think no more for us than if we were dogs," 
or ** 'E's all right ; 'e always thinks of the men " are the conunon 
catchwords one hears in discussions of an officer's popularity, 
a popularity which depends mainly on his consideration and 
solicitude for his men's welfare in common domestic matters. 
And this popularity is a very important thing. It means that 


by example and active effort officers are keeping their men fit, 
content, and cheerful, with fortitude to undertake arduous 
marches, with grit and spirit to withstand attack by superior 
numbers, and with the elan for vigorous offence. The impor- 
tance of this, it is needless to say, becomes greater the longer 
the war is prolonged, and the sense of weariness and disappoint- 
ment is intensified. The British soldier has no personal stake 
in the contest, as the Boer has, nor any but the vaguest 
knowledge, canying no enthusiasm, of the causes and objects 
of the war. He is merely doing his professional business 
with the zeal that the honour of the flag and pride in his 
work inspire in him. 

Now, my point is that on active service the relations between 
officers and men ought to be closer ; the officers should take a 
deeper and more detailed interest in their men's welfare as 
distinguished fi*om their work ; should live more with them and 
Uke them ; know them better ; do more to gain their confidence 
and affection by personal consideration in times of strain and 
hardship, and, indeed, by taking their full share of such hard- 
ship. Happily, there are many officers who do set the right 
example. The standard I have in my mind is no visionary 
ideal, but taken from my own personal experience and, by 
report, from that of others who have been equally fortunate. 
1 should not be writing at all if 1 did not know for myself 
what an influence for good an officer can have on the condition 
and spirits of his men, and, by observation, how keen is the 
appreciation of such an officer wherever he is found, 1 can 
sympathise all the more closely with those who have been less 
fortunate. As to the latter, perhaps I ought to say that I rely 
on intercourse not only with men in the field but with individuals 
of all corps and re^ments during a stay in hospital and its 
sequel — a depdt of " details " waiting to rejoin. 

But there is great need for caution in hearing the soldier s 
case, and for this reason. He is an inveterate '' grouser." To 
** grouse '* is soldiers' slang for to complain. It is one of the press 
correspondent's familiar fictions that Tommy (among several 


other noble things) is '' uncomplaining." In one sense nothing 
could be more ludicrously untrue, as he himself would be the 
first to admit There is something in the air out there which 
made us all grouse. You must talk about something ; there 
is no news, and a mild luxurious grumble passes the time 
wonderfully. If it is a fatigue, by the time you have done the 
grumble you find, to your surprise, that you have done the 
fatigue. Most of this sort of grousing represents the *' topmost 
froth of thought," and is of very little account. But it has to 
be carefrdly appraised, for it is sometimes wholly despicable ; 
in every regiment there is a small residuum of invertebrates, 
mean in spirit and foolish in speech, who really have not the 
grit and pluck to be soldiers at aU. 

Now, making the fullest allowance for what is generally 
a surface idiosyncrasy, there yet remains, in my honest judg- 
ment, evidence of the unpopularity of many officers, justly due 
to their shortcomings, in the ways I have indicated. I am not 
going to recount the specific stories which one hears out there 
of selfishness and indifference, because I want to avoid the 
least suspicion of exaggeration, and stories are easily exagger- 
ated. But the evil exists, and it is thrown into relief by the 
exceptions to it, which are as warmly and generously appre- 
ciated as the other side is bitterly resented. Tommy is very 
fair-minded at bottom, and has the usual amount of human 
nature in him. The rigid discipline under which he lives, 
almost the passive serfdom of the dumb animal, makes him 
peculiarly susceptible to the " touch of nature," and to any 
personal sympathy and encouragement which for the moment 
abolishes distinctions of rank. It is this rigid discipline, too, 
which tends to keep the evil, where it exists, suppressed and 
unremedied, often perhaps unknown, when if it were known it 
would be readily cured by the good hearts and good sense of 
the officers themselves, whose deficiencies might only be due 
to ignorance or, at the worse, indifference. 

And now, in order to be more particular, I will give some 
instances in which the evils tell, and indicate the remedy. 


To take the material side first. Mere food is a matter of 
overwhelming importance to a soldier doing hard work, whether 
fighting or marching. Bullets are insignificant beside it No^«r 
every one knows that there is very great difficulty in feeding a 
column moving far from a base of supplies. It is often necessary 
to put the troops on half-rations or less. This is a severe trial 
in a succession of days beginning at from 2 to 5 a.m. and ending 
at 8 or 9 p.m., with possibly night marches thrown in. Full 
rations are often little enough. Now, in such circumstances, 
officers are too often allowed to carry an excessive quantity of 
baggage — ^private stores and kit, a quantity out of all proportion 
to the transport devoted to the men. 

It is a great object to limit the transport, but it is done at 
the expense of the men, who are just those who need it most. 
It is not only a matter of food. Rigid orders are generally 
made against carrying anything on the waggons except the 
barest necessaries. For instance, in the kit waggons of an 
infantry battalion, it may be that the men's blankets and 
nothing else are admitted. If a man wants to take any extra 
comforts such as spare underclothing he must carry it on his 
person, already burdened to the extreme point with rifle, two 
pouches of ammunition, water-bottle, belts, and haversack. 
This may be all very right and necessary ; such things are the 
common hardships of war, which is not a picnic, but a hard 
practical business. But space, which is so saved, oug^t not to 
be represented by tents, tables, clothes, stores and wine for the 
use of officers. It must be remembered that the effect is 
cumulative. Every Cape cart and waggon so used has to be 
drawn by horses and mules, whose forage must also be carried 
with the colunm. The truth is, that one of two courses ought 
always to be taken where there is any risk of scarce supplies. 
One is to reduce to a minimum the whole transport, limiting 
the baggage of all ranks. It may be remarked that had some 
general order been promulgated to this effect, one might have 
heard less of the mobility of the Boers and of long stem chases 
ending in their escape, in cases, be it understood, where 


speed has been limited by a slow-moving convoy exactly similar 1 

to our own. Transport must be often the crux of the whole 
matter, and it would be interesting to know, in some acknow- 
ledged cases of failure through slowness, exactly what proportion 
the officers' waggons and Cape carts bore to the rest of the ^ 

convoy. It would sometimes amount to a scandal, I believe. 
Possibly, under the new regime^ some reform has been made. ^ 

No doubt regulations vary in different brigades. In some 
famous marches by mounted troops for a special object there 
can have been no question of such a scandal; but in the 
course of the war scores of colunms have moved obscurely 
about on various errands, blending a little fighting with much 
tedious marching and always encumbered with one of those 
serpentine convoys, sometimes miles in length, creeping slowly 
and sinuously over hill and valley, having to be guarded in all 
its unwieldy and straggling course, getting blocked at difficult 
drifts, and making one vividly realise the tremendous difficulties 
of war. One way, as I have said, is to limit this incubus by 
reducing all baggage. But if this is not considered necessary, 
then baggage of officers and men should at least be equalised 
down to a fair point. The latter should not be docked of 
biscuits, beef, and kit-room, until all unnecessary luxuries have 
been eliminated from the officers' baggage. This may seem 
excessive rigour, but I hardly think it is so really. Physically, 
the officers, at any rate the younger ones, are as well able to 
stand hardship and exposure as the men, and often better. 
And the physical strain on them is, quite rightly, less; 
they travel light, and have servants to do their camp-work. 
A man travels heavily weighted, and when he reaches camp, 
after a hard march, his work may only be beginning. There are 
fatigues and camp work to be done, and a chance of outpost 
duty all night. At such times a man may reason unfairly. 
Absorbed in the physical fatigues and needs of his own narrow 
groove, he may forget that his officers may have had a hard day 
too, and passed through anxieties and tests of skill and watch- 
fulness, of which he knows nothing ; but when all is said, any 

No. 8. III. 8— Mat 1901 c 


sharp material inequality is demoralising, especially when a 
man knows that the biscuits and clothes he misses are represented 
by an equivalent in weight of not indispensable comforts enjoyed 
by his officers. It must be remembered that the conditions 
are far from normal. The smooth run of service in peace time» 
when distinctions may be kept up without harm, are left far 
behind. In war the case is often more like that of a ship- 
wrecked crew or a straitened exploring party lost in a desert 
— circumstances in which a levelling of ranks and conventions 
and a close sentiment of camaraderie may be of the highest 
value in keeping up the spirits of the whole body. 

So much for the question of transport But besides this, 
an officer who thinks as much of his men as of himself can do 
much in many ways to better their lot Tommy is a remark- 
ably helpless person in the system under which he lives and, 
as the Hospital Commission reported, with rather naive 
perplexity, "is very reluctant to make complaints" — ^that is 
effective official complaints. He is largely at the mercy of all 
sorts of people — ^incompetent or dishonest quartermaster- 
sergeants, careless or lazy cooks, Army Service Corps men, 
sleek and well fed themselves, far-off officials on the line of 
communications, a whole hierarchy of people, requiring the 
ceaseless vigilance and energy of his officers to ensure that they 
do their duty by hinL Men very soon know how much is 
being done for them and by whose initiative, and if they see an 
officer, as I have had the good fortune to see one, hovering 
about the cook's fire while his own supper waits, to taste the 
men's coffee when it is made ; if they know that he has at his 
fingers' ends what rations there are and the fairest way of 
dividing them, and will see they are so divided and give ear to 
the smallest complaints and grievances about them ; if they see 
him periodically turning out the quartermaster's stores and 
using violent language if he finds anything being unduly kept 
back, if tiiey find that on every possible and impossible occasion 
he is sending out to commandeer poultry, bread, &c., to supple- 
ment the rations, and dividing it fairly among the men and his 


own mess alike ; if a waggon of new clothing turns up and they 
dimly guess at the amount of worrying and cajoling and 
threatening it has taken him to get it there (for it will not 
come of itself) ; if they have an officer like this, the gain in 
spirit and efficiency is incalculable. Be it added that such a 
man is probably just the one who will know the rest of his 
work thoroughly* For such qualities as I have indicated do 
not stand alone; they show an intimate and sympathetic 
knowledge of the soldier and the best way of using him. The 
possessor of them will certainly command double confidence, 
for he is not only a master but a Mend. He may be severe as 
he pleases, for he will be just through knowledge. But he will 
not have many offenders. 

I would go even further and ask if there might not be more 
personal intimacy between the officers, at any rate the younger 
ones, and the men. I mean something of the sort referred to 
in the following extract from a letter which a friend has shown 
me, written by a private at the front to his relations at home. 

We have a representative of your town here ; he is over my company, 

Mr. , he is lieutenant, and all the men are very fond of him. He is veiy 

good and we only wish the remainder were like him^ but I am sorry to say they 
are not. He sits among us, and laughs and talks with every one just the same 
as if he were an ordinaiy Tommy, and always looking to our comfort. 

Such relations between officers and men may seem strange 
and even dangerous to people at home with their traditional 
ideas of army discipline, and of the sharp caste-division between 
the ranks. I admit that here I am treading on more debate- 
able ground, but my point is that the circumstances of active 
service alter the whole case, making what may be pernicious at 
home not only harmless but beneficial in war. Of course, tact 
and savoir faire are as necessary here as elsewhere. Given 
these things would discipline suffer ? I think not It would 
gain. In fact the doubt seems almost absurd to one who 
knows the facts, and with what affection and admiration men 
speak of an officer after their own heart To play the '' little 
tin god," to court authority by isolation, is always a dangerous 


method. Least of all does it answer with soldiers, who are 
very shrewd judges of character, and very quick to appreciate 
the true basis of authority. Excess of dignity in an officer is 
a fatal blunder. 

I have now mentioned some special points where a close 
bond between officers and men works for good. There are 
many other ways in which a knowledge of, and thought for, 
men can save much friction and promote much enthusiasm. I 
will briefly refer to two of these. 

If there is one thing Tommy hates it is being worried. 
The word is a poor one, and has better but less polite sub- 
stitutes in his own vernacular. I don't deny that he will 
grouse heartily over the most necessary work, but he will 
grouse in a very different and more justifiable way over 
unnecessary work, or work given him at the wrong time, when 
a little consideration would have shown the order to be unfair. 
There are times when details must be insisted on ; there are 
others when a sympathetic instinct would say ''let them alone." 
He hates a succession of contradictory orders, one counter- 
manding the other. Often this is inevitable, but he is shrewd 
enough to make allowances where it is so and to distinguish 
cases where it is only foresight and consideration that are 
lacking. An officer's knowledge of his work and knowledge 
of his men, never far separated, are here closely allied. An 
order which is wrong through short-sightedness or ignorance, 
though its results in inconvenience to the giver may be nothing 
at all, reacts inexorably on the rank and file in the shape of 
annoyance and worry perhaps far out of proportion to its 
intrinsic importance. 

Another similar topic is that of the ignorance of the private 
soldier of the operations he is engaged in. I am bound to say 
he accepts it with philosophy, for it is part of the system in 
which he is trained. Not that the system avows as much. 
The text-books abound with exhortations to intelligence in the 
soldier. Yet no one can say that it is encouraged very 
practically, or that individual independence and resource are 


found in the ranks of the home army as they are found among 
the Boers and among the best Colonial corps, who are unham- 
pered by our traditions. But I shall transgress my limits if I 
speak about intelligence in action. What I mean here is 
general enlightment as to the objects of marches and 
manoeuvres. A man will work better if he knows where 
he is going and why. A machine to some extent he must 
always remain, but the less he is treated as one the better. 
For, however machine-like his actions under the influence of 
discipline he has a critical eye for results, and is liable to 
wrongly ascribe failure to bad leadership, and even to call 
failure what is really success. Enlightenment would naturally 
spring from familiar intercourse between officers and men. 

All I have so far said has been in very general terms; 
but naturally the moral I have pointed applies with varjring 
force to different branches of the service and with varjdng 
d^ree according to the different shades of rank among officers 
and men themselves. It is the general spirit that I am 
concerned with. For instance, I have not mentioned non- 
conmiissioned officers, " the back-bone of the army " as they 
have been called. That in their special functions they exercise 
a potent influence is very true. In fact in a lesser degree the 
very same questions arise as to the relations between them 
and their men as arise between officers and men. A selfish and 
indifferent sergeant may be as pernicious an influence as an 
officer of similar character, just as by example and solicitude 
for his men he may have an equally good effect on his section 
or sub-division. There are wheels within wheels in every 
regiment. But needless to say the important thing is that the 
standard should be set from above, or the right spirit will not 
permeate downwards, while apart from this fact, the powers of 
the sergeant are at best limited, and some grievances may be 
altogether out of his power to remedy. 

It should also be said that for the purposes of this question 
a distinction can be drawn between mounted men and infantry, 
at any rate in relation to the purely material side. The former 


are naturally more independent ; their work is less tiring ; they 
have better chances of supplementing their rations on their 
own accoimt ; they can carry more things. On the march it 
is always the foot soldiers who are at the extreme strain ; and 
it must be remembered that throughout most of the war they 
have formed the bulk of the field force. Any defect in 
organisation tells acutely and directly on them. Any one who 
has seen them tramping their fifteen miles across the veldt, 
half-clothed, half-fed, half-rested, and overloaded, but steady, 
resolute, and patient, will feel that no effort should be spared 
to keep them at their fittest and happiest. 

Again, I have referred in this paper chiefly to moving 
columns ; but it should not be thought that the point is 
inapplicable to standing camps or garrisons. The degree may 
widely vary. To sit securely at a safe station on the line of 
communications, with plenty of stores and blankets behind 
you, fiill rations, tents, and other joys, is a very difierent thing 
to tramping a scarcely accessible guerriUa-haunted wUdemess. 
The worst enemy may be monotony, or even, by paradox, the 
hope deferred of active work. Yet these are enemies and 
may be defeated. But there are also, or have been, scores of 
intermediate cases where small posts are more or less en Fair 
with precarious communications in districts infested by raiding 
bands, demanding incessant vigilance with little excitement; 
cases where depression and disappointment will gain ground 
without the best relations between officers and men. On the 
whole it may be said that the nearer the conditions are to 
those of a peace-establishment, the less the question arises, 
simply because the men are the less dependent on their officers 
for the conditions of happiness. 

That brings me naturally to the root of the whole matter. 
The word '' dependent " is perhaps misleading ; what I mean 
is, that in the normal life of peace the personal element is less 
prominent. The officers are administering a smoothly-running 
system, which secures to the soldier the elements of content ; 
but in war systems evaporate and the personal element 


assumes the highest importance. Yet an army only exists 
for the purpose of war. The question is then how to create 
and foster in peace such relations between officers and men as 
wiU stand the test of war. In going back thus far» any mere 
volunteer must, as I said at the outset, speak with diffidence. 
But it is not venturing too boldly to say — indeed all I have 
urged is leading to this conclusion — ^that the question does not 
stand by itself, but is bound up with the larger one of the 
training of our army, officers and men, as a whole. Neither 
side is professionally trained for war as it ought to be. It 
follows that the conditions are never approached which test, 
in the way they are tested in war, the relations between officers 
and men. 

Perhaps it is quixotic to expect that a slice of Donegal or 
Connemara should be " commandeered " and forces manoeuvred 
on it with an approach to reality, with no pre-arranged camping- 
grounds, no tents, no civilian caterers; with real serpent-like 
convoys to be got over mountain-drifts, real hardships to bear 
if transport breaks down, and real blame allotted for mistakes. 
Nor is it easy to see how the social gulf that now divides the 
ranks can be so bridged in times of peace as to lead to that 
knowledge of men and sharing of their life with its rough and 
smooth which was so invaluable in the stress of war ; but at 
least the foundations may be laid. It seems to be generally 
acknowledged that for many officers the army is not a profession 
in the sense it ought to be ; that they do not give enough time 
and zeal to their work, that the expense is too great and the pay 
too small, that interest counts for too much, and ability and 
application for too little; and on the other hand that the 
training of the men is imperfect, that too much time and 
trouble are devoted to ceremonial and routine as opposed to 
practical field-work. It may safely be affirmed that any im- 
provement in any of these things is also a step towards the 
particular reform I am advocating. 

That there is any inherent moral obstacle it is absurd 
to suppose. In England, of all countries, the very happiest 


conditions exist for the development of such relations as I have 
indicated, without the loss and, indeed, to the gain of discipline. 
We have sharp class distinctions but no class prejudices. To 
the gentleman the habit of command comes naturally, and 
with it the power to use that sort of familiarity which does not 
breed contempt. Of course, the faculty in its perfection of 
inspiring both obedience and affection is a rare gift, but as I 
have tried to point out it depends largely on mere knowledge 
and sympathy, and may be educated like any other faculty. 

We have heard of suggestions for '* democratismg " the 
army. If by this is meant any system of wholesale promotion 
from the ranks, or, indeed, any change which would tend to 
lower the social standard of officers, it cannot be too strongly 
condemned. That ceteris paribtis a soldier will best follow an 
officer who is his superior in birth may be taken for granted. 
To neglect this fact would be a wanton waste of that subtle 
personal magnetism which is exercised by gentle breeding. No 
one knows better than an English gentleman how to make the 
most of this quality, and how to double and triple its efficacy 
by example and insight, and to have it not only unimpaired 
but quickened by tactful familiarity. This is proved every day 
in every walk of life. It only remains to ask whether there is 
anything in the particular class from which soldiers are drawn 
which renders the task more difficult. Are they of too low a 
class ? This is surely an exploded notion. " We ain't no thin 
red 'eroes, nor we ain't no blackguards too," about hits the 
mark. Donning a uniform does not change a man's character. 
Soldiers are average men of the lower class, with the average 
amount of intelligence and morals for their rank in life, and 
with the common failings of humanity. The younger men 
have the defects and qualities of youth; the reservists are 
mostly sober family men with average width of view, sense of 
responsibility, and regard for morality. There are black sheep 
whom nothing but force will appeal to, as in large societies, 
but they do not set the tone. If we say that our soldiers have 
done well in South Africa it is only to say that they have 


worthily represented the strength and probity of the nation 
that sent them. For some of us who served side by side with 
them there is a deep personal feeling as well, due to what 
always seemed to me their exceptional warm-heartedness and 
generosity. It is partly this feeling which actuates me in 
writing this article. Nearly all of us volunteers owe much to 
the regulars, and if we see any way of bettering their lot while 
increasing their efficiency we ought to say so. • 

For the rest it is now or never, if we are to avoid com- 
pulsory service, that voluntary service must be made popular. 
This war will severely test its popularity. But the reform I 
have urged will, I am certain, be a step in the right direction. 

Erskine Childers. 


ONE of the most important results of the war in South 
Africa has been that the people of Great Britain have 
begun to take a real interest in our foreign possessions; an 
interest which will have the effect of greatly strengthening the 
hands of the Home Government in improving the administra- 
tion of the Crown Colonies and in developing their natural 
resources. Public attention was first directed towards Egypt 
and the Soudan and then to South Africa, whilst the idea of 
connecting our interests at the two extremities of the continent, 
by rail and telegram, has become common even to the man in 
the street. Between these extremities the British flag flies over 
two tracts of country separated by German territory, the one 
known as British Central Africa and the other as the Protec- 
torates of Uganda and British East Africa. The following 
remarks will be in reference to the protectorates only, and 
chiefly in regard to the latter, as of it I have actual personal 

The British " sphere of influence " was defined by agreement 
made between the British and German Governments in 1886 
and 1890, and the development of the country was left to the 
** British East Africa Association," which commenced opera- 
tions towards the latter part of 1888, but parted with its rights 


to the Government in 1894-95, in which years the Protectorates 
of Uganda and British East Africa came into existence. In 
criticising, therefore, the administration of these protectorates, 
it must be remembered that, whatever has been done, has 
been accomplished within a decade, and that the present system 
has been working only for half that period. On this accomit, 
when existing methods are found fault with, it will not be in a 
captious spirit, but rather with the hope that the necessary 
remedy will shortly be applied. With this object in view, 
suggestions will be made as to the lines on which improvements 
might be introduced, such suggestions obtaining any force they 
may possess from experience gained in India, where similar 
difficulties have occurred, although under somewhat different 
circumstances, arising from the fact that the Indians, with the 
exception of some of the frontier tribes, are in a higher state of 
civilisation than the natives of Africa. 

The country to be administered is roughly a million square 
miles in extent, and the population is estimated at two and a 
half millions in the East African Protectorate, and close on four 
millions in Uganda, but the former estimate is much too high 
now, for in the famine of 1889-1900 whole villages completely 
disappeared. The difficulty of control is, therefore, not due to 
the size of the population, which is no more than that in an 
average Indian Commissionership, but the immense area over 
which the population is scattered. In a country which is largely 
waterless, and where the only means of transport is by porterage, 
this difficulty cannot be exaggerated, but it has now been 
largely minimised by the construction of the Uganda Railway, 
which is at present open for close on 500 miles. The " Nyika," 
or waterless strip of country behind the coast, can now be 
crossed in a few hours, and from thence onwards there is, as a 
rule, no serious difficulty on the score of water. This same 
short journey of a couple of hundred miles lands the traveller 
on a higher plateau, where cattle and other beasts of burden 
will live without being molested by the tsetse-fly, and where, 
therefore, it would be unnecessary to depend on porters for trans- 






port, if only some little provision were made in the way of roads 
and bridges. The old company did do something in this 
direction, for it cut the *' Mackinnon Road " through the dense 
jungle for the benefit of the porters going up to Uganda, but 
the present administration has done nothing, except to a small 
extent in Uganda, and therefore must be held responsible for 
the resulting unsettled state of the country and dearth of 
trade. As every one knows, our control over the natives is 
absolutely non-existent beyond a radius of some ten miles or so 
from our forts, the reason being that the natives never see 
an official or any sign of the existence of a government. By 
opening out roads and having them patrolled by bodies of 
police, the country would soon be subjugated and traders would 
have protection and facilities of travel. The necessity of build- 
ing roads has been so universally recognised since the time of 
the Romans that it requires no further proof. It is impossible 
that the administration has not been struck with this necessity, 
and therefore the failure of Government to perform its duty in 
this respect is all the more reprehensible. Want of funds is no 
sufficient excuse, for, since the only income of the coimtry is 
from customs and transit dues, it is above all things necessary 
to increase trade. This will be all the more evident when the 
trade returns are considered: the imports in 1897-98 were 
estimated at £279,051 and in the following year at £489,062, 
whilst the figures for the exports were £67,954 and £66,687 
respectively. The imports tell us nothing, for the articles 
imported were principally for the consumption of the Europeans 
and Indians temporarily employed in the railway construction. 
The case of the exports is very differfent, for in a new country 
they represent the value of the foreign goods sold in the 
country and also the profits of the foreign merchants. Less 
than £67,000 of trade, and the amount decreasing, shows to 
what extent the country has been exploited during the ten 
years we have had it. 

From the Government point of view, improved communica- 
tions are very necessary, so as to lessen the cost of transporting 


military supplies and in order to render the troops more mobile, 
and thus obviate the necessity of largely increasing their 
number, which otherwise will be unavoidable when steps are 
seriously taken to subdue the country. The only security at 
present is at the coast and, to a lesser degree, along the railway 
line, and in the immediate vicinity of the forts. As an example 
of the present unsettled state of the country, I may mention 
that in the early part of last year two caravans going to 
Uganda were raided by the Wa-Kikuyu, several men being 
killed, in the immediate neighbourhood of Fort Smith, and yet 
at that time there were troops also at Nyrobi and at "Railhead," 
all three places being within twenty miles of each other. The 
Wa-Kikuyu, moreover, used to amuse themselves by firing 
shots at night time into Nyrobi, the headquarters of the 
railway, and by massacring any Indian whom they might catch 
a little way from the railroad. The authorities were supine in 
the matter, the reason generally accepted being that they had 
received orders from England not to start any fresh difficulties 
or incur further military expenditure. Again, a trading caravan 
led by two Englishmen was cut up in the Mbe country, less 
than a hundred miles from Fort Smith, and the Englishmen 
dangerously wounded. Instead of the offending tribe being 
properly punished, the Sub-Commissioner issued a notice that 
for the future no trading caravans were to go into those parts. 
Matters have apparently gone from bad to worse, for the cor- 
respondent of the Times of India writes on December 24, 1900, 

The road to Uganda is blocked by tribes on the war-path, driven to this 
attitude by our policy in forcing on them measures such as Sir Harry Johnston's 
'^ hut-tax." They are eager for revenge, which is their wild idea of justice. 
Whole caravans are looted and slaughtered. The military are hemmed in at 
their posts and barely holding their oMm. The telegraph wires are cut, and no 
communication is possible on either side. And now Kismayu is ablaze, and 
quite recently was a scene of murder, loot, and rapine, which we are not able 
to avenge till troops can be despatched from India or Aden, and when we do 
get there the moral effect of a quick and speedy settlement or punishment will 
have been lost completely. 


It is the want of water that causes the greatest difficulty to 
the traveller in Africa, and therefore it is necessary that the 
main roads or tracks should be provided with some sort of 
water supply. Costly works are not necessary, for it would be 
easy and inexpensive to construct tanks or shallow wells at 
spots where water is available. To water a caravan from a 
trickling spring or from a muddy water-hole is tedious, un- 
pleasant and insanitary ; having myself been glad to get even 
this liquid filth, I can speak with a good deal of feeling. In the 
East generally it is considered a pious act to construct weUs for 
travellers ; might not a little of this piety be expected jfrom a 
soulless Government? Possibly, if the AMcan native saw 
something done for his benefit, he might appreciate our advent 
more ; so far he has little but disease to thank the white man 
for. During the recent famine in British East Africa, the 
Home Government did not feel itself in a position to undertake 
any relief measures. Without criticising this action, I think 
one can have but one opinion of its meanness in charging for 
the transport, on the Government railway, of foodstuffs bought 
from funds raised by public subscription. 

It may be said that the Home Government has done so 
much for our East African possessions by building the Uganda 
railway that it cannot be expected to spend more money on 
roads ; but to urge such a plea would be somewhat disin- 
genuous, for, as every one knows, the Uganda line was primarily 
built, not to open out the country, but for political purposes ; 
namely, to secure our position in Uganda and the Upper Nile, 
and so stop any dervish or other irruption into those parts. 
Moreover, without feeder-roads, a railway is of little use, and 
therefore, merely with the idea of getting some return on the 
large capital invested, a little more should be expended in 
improving trade facilities. All this should have been done 
pari passu with the construction of the line ; as it is, the line 
is open to traffic half-way to Uganda, but simply runs through 
an undeveloped waste. 

Perhaps, as a preliminary to opening out the country, it 


would be advisable to know something about it, and have 
maps showing at least the principal physical features. In 
these particulars too we are woefiilly deficient, and if any one 
full of ideas of British superiority would only compare the 
maps and economic reports of British East Africa with those 
compiled by the Germans of their territory, he will understand 
why the latter have become such success^ rivals of ours in 
foreign trade. 

With the exception of the railway survey and a few surveys 
in Uganda, our knowledge of our territories is due to private 
individuals and to German sources. The best map we possess 
is that brought out by the Intelligence Division of the War 
Office in 1898, which, when not blank, is largely incorrect 
Our Government is accused by foreigners, and justly so, with 
being niggardly in the extreme as regards grants to any form 
of pure research, but is supposed to aid research when it can 
be proved to be directly utilitarian. Even this qualified praise 
is undeserved, for nothing is being done by our Gk>vemment 
corresponding to the German expeditions in their territory to 
map the country topographically and to investigate its value 
from the agricultural and mineral point of view. We have 
come to the stage of not expecting our Gk)vemment to bear 
the expense of investigations into matters relating to race, 
language, physiography, meteorology or suchlike important 
subjects ; the most that is ever hoped for is that some petty 
grant may be made to an expedition fitted out by some learned 
society. The Sultan of Zanzibar, who now rules over only 
1020 square miles, has an experimental plantation presided 
over by an English Director and Assistant, who are endeavour- 
ing to increase the output of the agricultural staples of his 
territory and to acclimatise others. We, on the other hand, 
with our million square miles, do nothing, although there is 
no apparent reason why the cultivation of rubber should not 
be extended, or why cofiee, tobacco, cacao and cotton should 
not be introduced. Private enterprise has shown that English 
cereals and vegetables, and Japanese or Australasian varieties 

• • •• •• 'i 

... •• .••• 
• • • • • 


of English fruit, will do well in the country round Machakos 
and Nyrobi ; but no thanks are due to Government, which has 
not even endeavoured to extend the cultivation of these articles. 
Ivory forms at present the most important export, but this 
trade will soon rapidly diminish, for the stores of ivory are 
being depleted and the elephant is being protected. The 
Germans have possessed their 880,000 square miles for about 
the same period that we have had our territory, but yet their 
exports in 1898 were valued at £800,000. They, however, have 
several experimental stations for tropical culture and cattle- 
rearing, and they have plantations run by German settlers for 
the cultivation of rubber, cacao, coffee, vanilla and coco-palm. 

To make a correct map on the scale of eight or four miles 
to the inch, instead of the existing sketch-map of twenty-five 
miles to the inch, would not be a very lengthy or expensive 
operation, carried out by proper hands, such as the Indian 
Survey Department If, however, the matter is arranged for 
by the Foreign Office and proteges of influential people sent 
out from England, it will be carried out in about as satisfactory 
a manner as the Uganda Railway has been, and more than that 
need not be said. 

A geological survey on practical lines should certainly be 
undertaken, for it is known that minerals, including coal, 
exist in the country towards Lake Rudolf, and, if these are 
only in workable quantities, wealth would soon accrue to the 

In the absence of specialists, the economic conditions of 
the country could be ascertained by the district officers, if only 
their work were arranged for on a more rational basis. These 
officials are, or rather should be, the backbone of the whole 
administration, in the same way as they are in India. In the 
latter country the district officer has on an average the welfare 
of at least a million natives entrusted to him ; besides exer- 
cising a general control over the administration of justice, the 
police, education, sanitation, public bodies, &cc., he travels 
during at least four months every year over his districti visits 


all the larger villages, meets the principal inhabitants, and 
generally gets to know the wants of his district to almost the 
same extent that a landed proprietor in England knows the 
needs of his estate. In East Africa, however, the district 
officer is little better than a clerk ; his powers are less than 
those of the last joined " civilian " in India, and his work is 
principally of the kind that in the latter country is entrusted 
to a native head-clerk. Very seldom is he able to go more 
than a day's ride from his headquarters, as, if he were absent, 
there would be none to attend to the petty business that might 
come up. This business generally consists in assessing the 
customs duty on ivory that is passing through, or realising the 
transit dues on a train of donkeys or herd of goats. It may 
be, too, that a Swahili or Indian trader wishes to take money 
down to the coast and has to get a draft on the Mombasa 
treasury for the purpose, as it is illegal to take specie out of 
the Uganda Protectorate. This curious state of affairs arises 
from Government having made no provision for a currency. 
Indian coinage is used, but the provision of this is left to the 
banks at Zanzibar and Mombasa, which charge for the accom- 
modation ; thus, when cashing cheques, I had to pay one per 
cent, to get silver, but a great deal higher for notes, as there is 
a great demand for these on the part of the Indians who are 
remitting to their homes. One Accountant-General did try a 
little finance which took the form of flooding the country with 
the Indian copper coin called a *^ pice " ; the treasury benefited 
by this, but not the country, for when I was at Tsavo Kibwezi 
100 pice went to the rupee instead of 64 ! 

When not attending to something like the above, or trying 
a petty case arising within the fort precincts, the district officer 
is keeping up account-books or attending to the ** despatches '" of 
the Sub-Commissioner. If only the Foreign Office had not in- 
fected East Africa with " despatches,'' things would be more 
flourishing there. These alarming documents, generally relating 
to mere nothings, have amused the clerks in the Foreign Office 
for years, but in Africa they appear to have caused a sort of 

No. 8. III. 8.— May 1901 f 

* •* 

* 4 


blight, as the effort to evolve them on the part of the Sub* 
Commissioners appears to have occasioned a swelling of the 
head and a condition of the mind tending to mental atrophy 
except in the production of despatches. The result of this 
system is that the so-called district officer has no influence 
over the surrounding natives, whose villages he does not know 
of and whose chiefs he has never seen. In one or two instances 
where men have obtained local Influence, they have been 
transferred to a part of the country vdth which they were 
unacquainted. As the natives are practically undiscovered, it 
is needless to say that they on their part have no knowledge of 
the Government, which has done nothing on their behalf, 
exercises no control over them, and does not even exact 
recognition from them. 

It may be urged that the administration cannot afford to 
increase the number of the officials, and therefore that the 
existing system cannot be altered. The obvious reply to this 
is that, if the present system continues, so also will the present 
state of affairs, and there will be no progress. In any case it 
would not be necessary to double the staff, as the petty head- 
quarter work might be done by a junior assistant or by a head- 
clerk, whilst important matters might be referred to the district 
officer in camp, as is the practice in India. By keeping a 
European officer at headquarters and letting the district officer 
go on tour, it would be possible, if necessary, to increase the 
size of the present administrative charges. 

The touring official should keep careful notes of the villages 
and people he visits, so that in a few years it would be possible 
to compile a rough gazetteer, which would supply local 
information to a new official and would enable the higher 
authorities to get some idea of the capabilities of the country, 
the manner in which it should be developed, the existing 
village or tribal government, the forms taxation might take, 
prejudices of the people, &c. Unless the native is to be 
treated as a mere beast of the field, we must introduce some 
little order into what at present is largely chaos, and the first 


step in this direction is to clothe the tribal chiefs or village 
headmen with some sort of authority, recognising certain 
rights on their part, but at the same time insisting on certain 
duties from them in return. Don't let us give the native 
cause for thinking that we merely wish to grab his land or 
raise taxes out of him ; let us improve his condition a Uttle by 
teaching him handicrafts, providing cheap dispensaries as in 
India, securing to him the enjoyment of the fruits of his labour, 
and so on. 

The native, it is true, is so lazy that he will often prefer to 
starve rather than work ; if he has all that he desires no one 
can blame him for not working to get more. By civilising 
him a Uttle, however, new wants will be created, and to satisfy 
these he will learn to work, so as to raise more from the soil 
than is necessary merely to keep himself alive. By so doing 
we shall also benefit ourselves, as the demand for piece goods 
and other manufactured articles will increase. Already the 
effect of the railway has been that the natives near it have 
taken to clothe themselves, partly to copy the Indians and 
partly because the latter laughed at their nakedness, and 
ridicule no savage can endure. A market will soon arise for 
European wares if only our traders will ascertain what the 
native wants, instead of trying to induce him to buy articles 
that we already possess. At Zanzibar and along the coast the 
women have of late years all taken to clothing themselves in 
printed calicoes of the most startling patterns and colours, but 
I was informed that these articles, which had an instant large 
demand, were introduced by the Germans and not by the 
EngUsh, although our trade in those parts is no new thing. 

At the present time it is impossible to say with what 
ostensible object Government is running the country, unless it 
is merely to make our occupation sufficiently " effective " to 
keep off the hands of other Powers. Certainly nothing has been 
done for the native, nor does the Englishman see that anything 
has been done on his behalf. The highlands existing in the 
districts of Ulu, Kenia and Mau are perhaps not exactly health 


resorts, but they are suitable for European settlors, and are 
more healthy than the portions of British Central Afnca that 
have been colonised. The land is suitable for agriculture or for 
stock-raising, the soil in the Athi and Kapt^ Plains being the 
same as the '^ black cotton " soil of India and Southern Russia. 
Up to the present there are no settlers, not because there are 
no applicants, but because the Government either refuses to 
grant or sell land or else seeks to impose impossible conditions. 
This is very different fix)m the policy of the Germans in 
Usambara, where the settlers not only get free grants of land 
but also every kind of assistance in advice, money and other- 
wise. One applicant in our territory was told the country was 
not pacified, and he was therefore refused, although he was 
prepared to take the risk. The land applied for was adjoining 
the railway, so that this reason involved a distinct admission of 
incapacity on the part of the authorities. Of the twenty thousand 
and odd Indian coolies engaged on the railway construction, 
many, whose term of engagement had elapsed, have wished to 
take up land but have been refused, although these are the very 
men who should be encouraged to settle in this sparsely popu- 
lated land, as they could stand the climate, whilst their 
" petite culture " would prove ultimately more profitable to the 
administration than large ranches would. It would, moreover, 
be another outlet for the overcrowded districts of India, 
although this reason will scarcely commend itself to the 
authorities in East Africa, where the Indian is not much 
loved, he being too pushing when compared with the easy- 
going, lazy native. At present nearly s31 the petty trade in 
British and German East Africa, as well as in Zanzibar, is in 
the hands of the Indians, who have ousted the Arabs and 
SwahiUs, and who wUl be the means of eventually bringing 
prosperity to our possessions in those parts. At present their 
wants are very inadequately provided for, as the Courts do not 
know Hindustani, even in Mombasa, where the " Banians " form 
the majority of the litigants. The consequence is that any 
disreputable, out-at-elbows Goanese loafer is employed as 

1 • 


interpreter, to the great disadvantage of the Indian suitor. 
Instead of ignoring the Indian, as is the case at present, the 
Government should only appoint at large trade centres such 
judges and magistrates as know Hindustani. To demand a 
knowledge of this language as well as of Swahili is not asking 
too much ; in India it is the rule for the civilians to know at 
least two of the vernaculars. 

In many respects endeavours have been made to copy the 
procedure observed in India, but very little discrimination has 
been shown in the manner of doing so. Laws and regulations 
have been adopted en bloc without considering how far they are 
applicable. I say nominally, because no one pays any atten- 
tion to these notifications — ^the Government not even supplying 
the Courts with copies of the Acts in question ! To apply the 
complicated Indian Procedure Codes to cases in which the 
up-coimtry savages are concerned is ridiculous enough, but 
this is nothing to the absurdity of extending the Indian Jail 
Act and Manual to a country in which no jails exist except in 
name, where the prisoners are chained together, fed and kept 
in a shed, and just marched out in the daytime to do a little 

With the Indians and the Swahilis such portions of the 
Indian Civil and Criminal Codes as are applicable should be 
observed, but as regards the natives, rough-and-ready justice is 
all that is necessary, and merely rules similar to those applied 
to the half-savage tribes on our Indian frontier. In a new 
coimtry it is, of course, impossible to introduce new laws to meet 
aU future contingencies, but officials might at least, in the 
civilised portions, be guided by procedure prevalent in other 
countries, if no rules are provided for East Africa. Thus, when 
taking up the property of Europeans near Mombasa for the 
railway line, instead of calmly appropriating it and becoming 
subsequently involved in lawsuits, it would have been just as 
easy for the Government representative to have issued notices, 
listened to claims and objections in a similar manner to that 
prescribed in the Indian Land Acquisition Act 


And here we come to the real crux of the whole question of 
East African administration: Are those entrusted ^th the 
administration capable of the work entrusted to them ? 

When the Home Grovemment took over the administration 
of East Africa from the Company, it naturally took over the 
existing staiF, which, of course, included men of different degrees 
of ability, whose previous training fitted them for pioneers and 
traders, but scarcely for administrators, except of a very rough- 
and-ready type. Some, of course, were able to rise to the 
occasion, and much more might have been made of them if 
there had been a strong directing hand ; but this, unfortunately, 
was lacking, for the head of the administration was the Consul- 
General at Zanzibar, whose legitimate duties lie in the consular 
and diplomatic line. With no special judicial and administra- 
tive training or experience, and v^th but an occasional flying 
visit to the mainland, the Consul-General could not be expected 
to originate far-reaching schemes or even to exercise a guiding 
control over his subordinates, who were thus left to their own 
devices. Some of the oflicials have risen to their position, whilst 
others have suffered from a too rapid rise, and have lost them* 
selves among despatches, salutes and the gorgeous uniform they 
have introduced. The Civil Service of India, living in a land 
of pomp and show, have not considered it necessary to bedeck 
themselves with blue cloth, gold lace and swords, but the civil 
oflicials in East Africa, living among naked or semi-nude 
savages, have come to a different conclusion. 

For the last two years the Uganda Protectorate has been 
under a Special Commissioner whose experience has been 
gained in British Central Africa, but who otherwise has had no 
special training. It seems a pity that the services could not 
have been obtained of some official who had administrative 
knowledge of some part of our dominions, where the state of 
civilisation was somewhat higher, and who would therefore 
know on what lines improvements should be made. It is, no 
doubt, owing to our foreign possessions being distributed 
between the India, Foreign and Colonial Offices that expe- 


rience gained in one portion of the world is not made use of 
in another, but each possession left instead to work out its own 
salvation. We may, however, have hopes for the future, as the 
present head of the Foreign Office, Lord Lansdowne, has had 
such varied experience in our foreign dependencies, that these 
are not likely to be run henceforward by a set of permanent 
clerks who have mostly never left the British Isles. 

Progress will be ensured when the conduct of East African 
aiSairs is taken from the Foreign Office clerks and the Consul- 
General at Zanzibar, and is entrusted to an officer who has 
gained his experience elsewhere and is sufficiently young and 
robust to survive the climate, which is enervating in those 
places where it is not absolutely deadly. One man of energy 
and good constitution could manage the two protectorates, 
thus obviating the present dual control and artificial restric- 
tions. Attention should, however, be paid to the recruiting 
and training of the junior officials, as with incompetent subor- 
dinates little can be accomplished. At present they are 
appointed by the Foreign Office without even a qualifying 
examination, let alone a competitive one, and then shipped 
out to Africa and sent up the coimtry without the slightest 
knowledge of Swahili, law, accounts, or aujrthing else. 
The salary is a bare pittance ; merely enough to enable them 
to get into debt. If reasonable pay is given and men are 
selected by competition only, or by nomination and competition, 
as in the Navy, there will be no difficulty in getting efficient 
officers. A six months course of instruction in languages, 
elementary law, conditions of the country, and so on, could 
easily be arranged for, either in London or at Mombasa, and 
thus replace the present haphazard and unsatisfactory method 
of picking up knowledge. We should not then have a repeti- 
tion of an actual case in which a man who can neither read nor 
write was put in charge of a sub-district I In the case referred 
to, exceptional service required a special reward, but surely this 
might have taken a more appropriate form ! 

With an efficient administration and a judicious outlay of 



capital, which might be raised by a guaranteed loan, the 
country would soon begin to prosper. Hitherto money has 
been granted with a very niggardly hand, and almost all has 
been spent in military expeditions, but no doubt funds would 
be forthcoming if properly matured projects were submitted 
by a capable head of the administration. The Foreign Office 
control over the major heads of expenditure might continue, 
but the present red tape as to details must cease. As an 
instance of how this works, I may mention that sections for 
officers' quarters, sent out from England, lay rotting along the 
roadsides at Mombasa, because no funds had been provided for 
sending them up country on the Government railway 1 Again, 
at one of the forts the armed police were a lot of ragamuffins, 
because no provision had been made for a tailor to make up 
the uniforms from the cloth that had been already supplied. 

In military matters, too, alterations will have to be made, 
as the English officers at present only serve in East Africa for 
two or three years, and come for the purpose of getting a little 
active service, or sport, or in order to recruit their finances. Is it 
a wonder, then, that the officers, being ignorant of the language 
of the men and being but birds of passage, should have but 
little knowledge of their men or control over them ? Numerous 
murderous outbreaks of the men, to which it is unnecessary to 
refer in detail, have taken place, showing the necessity for alter- 
ing the present system. With the high pay given and the 
prospects of active service and sport, it would not be difficult 
to get any number of officers to volunteer for continuous 
service in Africa if those in our auxiliary forces were approached. 
A man in a British regiment naturally does not like the idea 
of cutting himself off from his old comrades for ever. 

One more important point deserves notice, and that is, that 
there is no direct steamboat line between England and East 
Africa or Zanzibar, simply because the Government will not 
give a sufficient subsidy. To get to those parts direct from 
Europe, the traveller must go by either the German East 
Africa Line or else by the French Messageries Maritimes. 


To recapitulate. If we wish to do anjrthing with East 
Africa, we must improve internal and external communica- 
tions, we must knock every atom of fight out of the natives, 
we must improve the administration and firee it fi*om too much 
Foreign Office control, we must get English and Indian 
settlers, and, finally, we must spend a little money in discover- 
ing and developing the natural resources of the country. 

Evelyn J. Mardon, 

Indian Chnl ServUt. 



IT was only the other day that Charlotte Yonge was laid to 
rest at Hursley in Hampshire, near the cross of John 
Keble, her guide and her intimate friend. There are probably 
few people born between 1845 and 1865 who did not leave a 
little piece of their hearts in her quiet grave. What eager girl of 
the 'seventies did not mould herself upon Ethel in " The Daisy 
Chain/' with her untidy skirts and her visions of reforming 
Cocksmoor? Who has not thrilled over the Doubts of 
Norman at Oxford ? And which of us that happened to 
have an ailment in that period did not try to give the sweet if 
impossible smile of Margaret May upon her sofa? Robert 
Browning says that " if you die, there's the dying Alexander " ; 
but who would not much rather have died like Guy Morville, 
the heir of Redclyffe ? We may have been the greater prigs 
for doing so, and self-examination can be a morbid habit And 
yet is it more unwholesome than the self-analysis and the fear 
of being absurd that possess the present generation ? It is, at all 
events, the outcome of moral enthusiasm, not of rather aimless 
criticism; and the annals of commonplace virtue are not 
more tedious than the aimals of commonplace vice. Miss 
Yonge is as lengthy as you choose, but what can be lengthier 
than a modem realistic novel ? 

In Umited space it is impossible to do justice to all her 
efforts. Perhaps her historical stories and studies are the most 


irreproachable of these. When she gets to other centuries than 
her own she is freer from the trammels of duty and moralising, 
and is able to put her particular tenets into fancy dress. But 
her domestic chronicles best embody herself. All that was 
original in her is there, and it is to them that this review will 
confine itself. 

Charlotte Yonge's chief gift is not a literary one: it is 
rather a moral gift — ^the faculty of intimacy. This it was, 
perhaps, which endeared her to more than one distinguished 
mind. In " The Life of Tennyson," Mr. Palgrave records how 
one night, in a Devonshire inn, he shared a room with him, 
and how the poet lay in his bed with a candle persistently 
reading a book of Miss Yonge's, which he had already taken 
out by day "at every disengaged moment, while rambling 
over the moor." " I see land ! " cried Tennyson at last. 

" Mr. is going to be confirmed." It is well known, too, 

how Morris and the Pre-Raphaelites read and re-read " The 
Heir of Redclyffe," the novel to which we find it most difficult 
to return. There are, of course, obvious reasons outside her 
characters to account for their taste. Charlotte Yonge was the 
child of the Tractarian School, without any of its extravagances, 
and her tone of symbolism was congenial to the Brotherhood ; 
so were the books that were influencing her — " Sintram " and 
the " Morte d' Arthur." And however different was her treat- 
ment of material, her range of subjects was analogous to theirs, 
and varied between historical romance and the homeliest 
themes. But she could hardly have affected them as she did 
had it not been for her deep, if narrow, moral insight and her 
faithftil minuteness of description. Her work, as a recent 
critic^ has cleverly pointed out, was in her own little province, 
the result of Wordsworth. 

The secret of Charlotte Yonge's strength lies in this : she 
plucks the heart out of the obvious — she evokes the familiar. 
No one can more potently stir the associations that recall our 
childhood's excitements : the emotions of lessons ; the dual 

1 '' Charlotte Yonge/' by Ethel Earl, The Pilot, March 80, 1901. 


life of inner visions and walks with the governess; the very smell 
of a school-treat at Christmas ; the hissing of the tea-urn which 
brought us our evening liberty. " The Daisy Chain " is an 
epic — ^the '^ Iliad'* of the schoolroom — ^and should hold its place 
as a moral classic. 

But if we are to make a preposterous analogy. Miss Yonge 
is, on the whole, more like Zola than Homer in her methods. 
Both she and the French novelist take an enormous canvas 
and, with prodigious industry, work out the experience of each 
of their characters. The Rougon-Macquarts are almost as 
numerous as the Mays, or the Pillars of the House, and, like 
them, recur through an endless series of volumes. Both writers 
have the same courage in the face of tediousness, and the same 
faults — overgrown conscience and prolixity. Their themes, 
it must be owned, are very different. Miss Yonge is at her 
best when she describes youth. The life of girlhood between 
twelve and twenty-five lies open to her with its jo3rs and 
struggles, and so does every unimportant, all-important detail 
of daily existence in a country neighbourhood. What, for 
instance, can be more arresting — ^what can carry us more 
directly into the centre of things — than the opening of " The 
Daisy Chain " ? 

'' Miss Winter, are you busy ? Do you want this afternoon ? Can you 
take a good long walk ? " 

" Ethel, my dear, how often have I told you of your impetuosity — ^you 
have forgotten." 

"Very well" — ^with an impatient twist — "I beg your pardon. Good 
morning, Miss Winter," said a thin, lank, angular, sallow girl just fifteen. 

Here is the gih of intimacy : a something that puts us in 
touch with her people at once. And she knows in their 
essence all the little things that ajSect family life, even to the 
frictions that exist, without fault on any side, between differing 
temperaments in the same circle. That is why we do not so 
much read her stories as lire next door to her characters, 
embracing all the worry and tedium as well as the pleasure 
which identification with a family must mean. When the 


Underwoods and Merryfields have the measles we know 
exactly which one is the worst and want to go and inquire 
after them. When the Pillars of the House give a party on 
about eighteenpence and entertain the County on that modest 
sum (Miss Yonge has a discreet partiality for orthodox lords), 
we find ourselves growing needlessly harassed lest the home- 
made cakes should be too heavy ; and when (in ** The Clever 
Woman of the Family ") Ermine Williams, the Absolute Idea 
of the Invalid, puts on her "Niimberg horn brooch" to 
welcome the lover she had counted as dead, we are consumed 
with desire to see what she looked like. Or take *' Countess 
Kate,'' perhaps the most flawless of her domestic stories. How 
well we know the ardent, aggravating, lovable, grandiloquent 
little girl, with ha* private heroics, her awkwardness in public, 
her unsatisfied heart. And Rachel, too, the infallible, *^the 
Clever Woman '' of a small set, who made a " mission ^ of her 
ladylike cousin's family, to the destruction of their comfort, 
and in due time landed herself in a happy marriage with a 
soldier of iron will. These and a dozen more come back to 
our mind like well-remembered visitors. Indeed, if we search 
Miss Yonge's many volumes, we shall find there the germs of 
most of the women's characters that we come across in the 
world; it is the circumscribed development she gives them, 
apart firom the accidents of time and fashion, that make them 
oft;en seem remote fix>m our knowledge. There is at least no 
lack of depth in Charlotte Yonge. If we want the deeper 
aspects of family experience — ^the things all feel and seldom 
formulate — ^no one is better at suggesting them. When scarlet 
fever seized the delicate boy of the May family, Ethel and her 
father felt grave forebodings. 

Ethel silently and rapidly moved about, dreading to give an interval for 
tremblings of heart. Five years of family prosperity had passed, and there had 
been that insensible feeling of peace and immunity from care which is strange 
to look back upon when one hour has drifted from smooth water to turbid 
currents. There was a sort of awe in seeing the mysterious gates of sorrow 
again unclosed. 


In work, in character-drawingy such as all this, there is the 
saving grace, the steady force of reality. From the heart it 
comes ; to the heart it goes. And, in so far, it will retain its 
vital quality. 

It is when Hiss Yonge leaves her set limits that truth 
forsakes her. She is not an artist; the aesthetic sense is 
outside her and generally counts as a danger in her scheme of 
existence. Mr. Rivers, in " The Daisy Chain " — ^who possesses 
a Claude and a portfolio of engravings firom Raphael, who 
likes ** a show set of peasants in rustic cottages," and puts ** all 
that offends the eye out of the way" — has, according to 
Dr. May, ** cultivated his taste till it is getting to be a disease." 
And Cherry Underwood's picture painted to the glory of 
heaven, without much knowledge of drawing, was at once 
accepted by the Academy, and must have been a pretty bad 
specimen. None, indeed, of her artists are happy in their mind 
when once outside the lych-gate of their church. But, after 
all, bad art for the glory of heaven is no worse than bad 
art for art's sake — the ideal of modem stories — and has the 
advantage of possessing a practical motive which is applicable 
to other forms of activity. It must be owned, though, that Miss 
Yonge carries that motive pretty far. Sports, games even, do 
not escape. Croquet is frequently a matter for prayer : for or 
against, according as the croquet-player is indolent by tempera- 
ment or too much absorbed in the game. Her favourite lady 
in "The Clever Woman of the Family" only yields to it 
gradually because she long believed it to be the monopoly of 
fast officers and their set And bicycles (touchingly introduced 
into her last volume, "Modem Broods") are only allowed 
because they can be ridden in the service of the Church. 
" Magdalen (runs the story) had, however, decided on granting 
the bicycles. She had found plenty of use for her own, for it 
was possible, with prudent use of it, avoiding the worst parts of 
the road, to be at early celebration at St Andrews, and get to 
the Sunday School at Amscombe afterwards." 

It is impossible to imagine many men reading Miss Yonge. 


There is an intemperate tameness about her — ^at once her charm 
and her defect — ^which forbids our associating mankind with 
her. It would be as if we dreamed of them taking high tea in 
perpetuo. Her masculine portr^ts are generally impossible. 
She can manage a father or a colonial bishop, or even a 
widower clergjrman. Dr. May is the real hero of " The Daisy 
Chain " and " The Trial '* ; and the Diocesan in the last story, 
or blind Mr. Clare in " The Clever Woman of the Family " 
can mildly hold their own. But her lovers, clerical and 
military, and, worse still, her man of the world I Her con- 
ception of the latter is embodied in Philip Morville, who 
frequently stays with a lord in a gay country-house, and 
says " Encore ? " when the visitors' bell rings a second time 
in the villa of his untitled uncle ; or again, in Dr. May's 
utterance when he found the sitting-room '' pervaded with an 
odour of nutmeg and port-wine," while " a kettle, a decanter 
and empty tumblers told tales" — of nothing worse than 
Tom's attempt to cure his younger brother's cold. " Cold," 
says the Doctor, '* is always the excuse. But, another time, 
don't teach your brother to make this place like a fast man's 


Miss Yonge prefers the Church or the Army as a calling for 
her favourites, but she allows other avocations. That Pillar of 
the House who became the editor of a high-toned newspaper, 
besides squires, doctors, sailors, the weary politician and an 
emigrant farmer or two, come across our memory as we write. 
But as all of them are bent on devoting their professions to the 
cause of the Anglican Church, their talk is, so to speak, 
reduced to a common denominator. Extreme heartiness is her 
favourite method of producing a manly note in conversation ; 
and rather outlandish ejaculations, such as " Aye I " " Ha I " 
" Nay I " " What say you ? " are frequent in the mouths of the 
men in her books. They are not much more successfrd in 
feeling than in speech. When Leonard Ward is condenmed 
to death for a murder of which he is innocent, he is resigned, 
even pleased to be hanged, because he had once, unpunished. 


thrown a stone (which did not hit) at his elder brother for 
telling him the drawing-room was mitidy. Guy Morville, the 
heir of Redclyffe, cures himself of the Redclyfie temper by 
plajring the ''Harmonious Blacksmith*' whenever he is im- 
patient — ^though the amount of time he must have wasted in 
running to and from the piano is incalculable. Or, if we want 
a Bacchanalia of mildness, let us look in upon the proceedings 
on Philip Morville's wedding-day — the crown of a long and 
faithful though clandestine love. 

It was late before he appeared at all^ and when he came down there was 
nothing so plainly written on his face as headache. It was so severe that the 
most merciful thing was to send him to lie on the sofa in the drawing-room. 
Amabel said she would fetch him some camphor, and disappeared, while Lanra 
(the bride) sat still with her forced composure. Her father fidgeted, only 
restrained by her presence from expressing his fears that Philip was too unwell 
for the marriage to take place tonlay, and Charles talked cheerfully of the 
great improvement in his general health. ... At the last moment she 
(Amabel) went to warn Philip it was time to go, if he meant to walk to 
church alone, the best thing for his head. 

It should perhaps be mentioned that the headache came 
from remorse, and had already lasted eighteen months. There 
should be a separate treatise on Miss Yonge's treatment of 
illness, as the maladies in her novels, whether proceeding firom 
fire or fever, whether from shrunken tendons or overwork, are 
alike only cured by joy, repentance, or some other well- 
regulated feeling. But these, like Phihp's remorse, belong to 
the machinery of her tales. She is happily too sensible a 
woman to make for a plot as a rule. When she does so it is 
an anomaly, whether in " The Trial," where for three years the 
escaped villain keeps in his pocket the only document that can 
inculpate him; or in "The Clever Woman of the Family," where 
the deceptions practised by the robber and forger are such as a 
baby-thief would not attempt. In that book, too, so that no 
fault may be left unwarned in her works, she conscientiously 
allows Bessie Keith the mildest of married flirtations with 
Mr. Carleton, formerly rejected by her. But where it reaches 


its apex (we cannot call it a crisis) she has the misfortune to be 
upon a croquet-lawn. In her guilty excitement and desire to 
reach her relations she trips over a hoop, falls, and dies a few 
hours afterwards from an internal injury, the effect of the 
accident The culprit gives up fishing in the agony of his 
regret and takes to a serious profession, much to the pleasure 
of his Mama. Her uncle reads the burial-service, and all the 
other clergymen and officers, with their wives and nieces, live 
rather happily ever afterwards. 

When we consider episodes such as these, we cannot be 
surprised that the rising generation for the most part refuse to 
read Charlotte Yonge — except for her historical stories. The 
smallness of her experience, or rather (for that might apply to 
Miss Austen) of the results of her experience put them off her 
track. She is never perfect outside the hearth, and the hearth 
is not very popular just now. No more is the British Gentle- 
woman, but if ever a temple were built for her Miss Yonge 
should figure as its goddess. The young people brought up on 
Stevenson and Rudyard Kipling demand more colour and 
movement than she can give them. And yet in her last book 
she has tried hard to put herself in touch with them and has 
made pathetic concessions. Pneumatic tyres are adapted to 
self-sacrifice. The girl who longs for Girton is allowed to go 
to Oxford, and finds the womanly daughter and modest niece 
of an Anglican lord as her fellow students; Dolores, the 
author s favourite maiden, gives lectures on electricity and 
founds a reading-settlement. But it is no good. The girls of 
to-day cannot see themselves in Miss Yonge, and that is their 
chief demand from literature : for young people are not imagi- 
native. Besides, this is a critical age. " I can't read Miss 
Yonge 1" said a little girl the other day: "she makes such 
long conversations, and thinks everything she talks of is the 
same ; it doesn't seem to matter to her if it's a little dog, or 
self-denial, or a young girl, or a leaf." It is always easier for 
youth to detect faults than virtues. 

And what have people in their teens in the place of 

No 8. III. 2.— May 1901 a 


Charlotte Yonge ? The natural answer seems to be : '^ Mrs. 
Humphry Ward" She, too, writes the serious family story, 
unexceptionable in tone and dealing with religious problems. 
She, too, depicts the spiritual trials .of clergymen and young 
women. She paints the earnest priest who goes out of the 
church, Miss Yonge the earnest priest who stays in it — each 
according to their generation ; and Norman May is at least as 
living as Robert Elsmere. But when we come to women, it 
is the elder author who bears off the palm. Will Marcella with 
her humanitarian visions, her beauty, her diamonds, and her 
influence in society, live as long as dowdy, noble Ethel with 
her merely Christian scheme ? or has the fast, brilliant, free- 
thinking heroine of " Helbeck of Bannisdale," the vitality of 
Angela Underwood, half-flirt, half-saint, with her hoyden 
tricks, her taste for Ritualism, and her hidden capacities for 
devotion ? In the sum of her work, too. Miss Yonge gains 
the prize ; her books live for us and remain in our hearts as 
Mrs. Ward's hardly will, in spite of the fact that the author 
of " Marcella " treats of people and subjects much more con- 
genial to us than those of " The Heir of Redclyife." For 
when we come to compare the ground that both ladies 
cover — when we are confronted by Mrs. Ward's vast range 
of themes temporal and spiritual, the pen halts and the 
analogy stops. 

The reason why Miss Yonge wears is not far to seek. Her 
experience is limited, but it is deep, it is first-hand. She has 
chosen a narrow path, but all that she describes on that path 
is described from her own observation. She is herself: imcon- 
scious, spontaneous and human. The people she evokes are no 
sudden creations : they have always been in her affections. 
Nevertheless it is natural that, in spite of her virtues, she should 
be neglected, while the novels of Mrs. Ward are devoured by 
an audience whose needs she represents, whose dialect she 


And yet it is a misfortune. Miss Yonge could supply this 
generation with many of the qualities it lacks. Unselfishness 




and reverence are virtues none too common, and the wider 
the channel they flow in the better are they worth having. 
Charlotte Yonge appeals to enduring feelings, not to fleeting 
emotions ; and, when all is said, a belief in the possibility of 
doing good is better than the belief that no good can be done. 

Edith Sichel. 



A MOVEMENT which at any time in the history of the 
race attains such significance as to evoke a new name 
must be, as all observers will confess, not new in itself but 
merely a greater agitation of one of those forces which are a 
perpetual part of humanity. We believe that all earthly types 
have eternal prototypes : if Protestantism be a force with posi- 
tive existence, there must be for it an ideal laid up, eternal in 
the heavens. 

It is to be expected, then, that this ever-present revolt, 
more or less obvious, of the dissenter against existing religious 
standards — this revolt which is a part of man, who is made in 
the image of God — will be found to have a counterpart in the 
divine character. But though the religious mind always con- 
ceives of God as protesting against evil, such protest cannot be 
conceived as merely negative or destructive, either in character 
or aim. While in character, as just observed, it is a positive and 
permanent force, in aim it would remedy deficiencies, perfect 
the imperfect, overcome evil with good. Thus God's protest 
may fitly be regarded as the action of the positive illimitable 
good pushing against finite limitations of good, and, when it 
meets positive evil, vanquishing it by opposing to it some 
positive conception of good. 

' This quality of protesting, found both in God and man, 
must, if Jesus Christ be the divine man, be seen in him in its 


earthly perfection ; and one striking feature of his protest 
against evil is that it is not directed first and chiefly against 
irreligion but, like that of later Protestants, against the Church 
of his day. 

The argument of this article is, that in this protest of Jesus 
we shall find the perfect manifestation of that part of the divine 
which corresponds to all true religious reform which has ever, 
may ever, vibrate in the heart of man ; that he expressed an 
ideal Protestantism which must be essential to the perfection 
of the Church in every time and place, and to the completeness 
of every religious character; that the nature of right Pro- 
testantism, as distinguished from wrong, can be discovered only 
by an analysis of his attitude toward the sins and errors of the 
noblest reli^ous system of his time. 

Although Judaism was the purest ancient creed, it is but 
necessary to glance at the Mishna, or any sketch of its con- 
tents, to see how soul-deadening was the legalism which at the 
Christian era entered into every detail of the action of the 
devout Jew. The very fibre of his religious performance was 
of such stuff that a revived spiritual impulse could not long 
make his rule of life its expression. The observance of the 
Halakah, the traditional law, was the religion of all pious Jews. 
It has been a popular idea that a section only, and they false 
religionists, devoted themselves to legalism, while another 
section, the faithful who were waiting for the consolation of 
Israel, nourished their souls only upon psalm and prophecy ; 
but this is not true. All religious Jews considered tithings 
and purifications and sabbatical exactions necessary to salva- 
tion. Deep down where the eye of God alone sees the inner 
man, there was, no doubt, a clear distinction then, as in the 
Church of all time, between what may be called " the faithful 
remnant" — ^the pure in heart, who always see God even 
through the utmost formalism — and those who may always be 
termed religious actors (vToicpira/), because they are absorbed in 
accomplishments. But as far as Judaism might be seen out- 
wardly, it was technical and gross ; and if some humble souls 


laid the greater stress upon the inspired utterances of their 
religious poets, the flower of the nation — ^its strength, its youth, 
its learning — sat in the higher Rabbinical schools, where the 
precepts of a literal law were painfully analysed and split into 
more and more shocking puerilities. 

Perhaps the most accessible information concerning this 
religion is in Edersheim's " Life and Times of Jesus/' In 
vol. i. chap, viii., we read : " The Halakah indicated, with the 
most minute and painftil punctiliousness, every legal ordinance 
as to outward observances, and it explained every bearing ot 
the law of Moses, but beyond this it left the inner man, the 
spring of actions, untouched. What he was to beheve, and 
what to feel, was chiefly matter of the Haggadah.'' Edersheim 
explains that the first, the Halakah, was considered of supreme 
importance. Then he adds : " He (Jesus) left the Halakah 
untouched, putting it, as it were, on one side " ; and again : 
"Except when forced to comment upon some outstanding 
detail, he left the traditional law untouched." 

Let us be quite clear about this. In his early ministry 
Jesus protested against certain external actions of religious 
Jews. These were not enjoined by the tradition, and were 
condemned by the more thoughtful leaders of the legaUsing 
party themselves. The Pharisaic conscience was already vaguely 
feeling for definition of precisely those vices which he, graciously 
blowing upon its smoking flax, made vividly clear. They had 
already feebly protested against the taking of oaths ; they had 
said something in favour of secret alms ; they had spoken ot 
those among them who made a public nuisance of their piety 
as the plague of their sect, and it goes without saying that 
both priests and Rabbis knew the illegality of the traffic in the 
temple from which the former reaped so rich an income. 
Now, as to the extremists, " the plague of their sect," it may be 
remarked that there are in every section of the Church at all 
times men who, under the influence of the religious idea, per- 
form deeds which to better balanced minds appear obviously 
wrong. Such men usually make stock-in-trade of some sort out 


of their sensationalism, and yet would shrink in penitence from 
their selfish motives if they were capable of self-analysis. In 
truest kindness to the fanatics themselves, our Lord held such 
motives up to the light ; such actions in tenderness for their 
groping conscience he denounced. It is also very noteworthy 
that the most objectionable usages were condemned, not for 
what they were outwardly, nor for the doctrines they involved 
but because of their motive. Thus the only criticism which, 
until the close of his ministry, our Lord made of religious 
customs fell under the second division of Jewish doctrine ; it 
was Haggadic ; in which province even the most rigid sect of 
the Jews allowed large option of theory. This criticism is 
prefaced with most earnest exhortations not to break with the 
existing law but to add to its holiest motive, and it is ended 
with commands not to judge others, to beware whom we 
accept as religious reformers, making a good life the test, to be 
more careful to clear our own vision than that of our neighbour, 
to treat others as we would wish to be treated, and not to be 
blatant concerning our sacred things. 

Thus this early polemic of Jesus displays three charac- 
teristics. First, he upbraids only in harmony with the con- 
science of the party he criticises ; secondly, his criticism refers 
to motive, so that it contradicts as little as may be the sacred- 
ness of their code ; and thirdly, he upholds the authority both 
of code and codifier, conserving the very law that he knows 
his teaching must eventually supplant We shall see that 
these same features characterise his Protestantism to the end. 

Jesus makes little further criticism of the existing state of 
religious usage until the last week of his public ministry. 
What comes between is extorted from him by the efforts of 
the Rabbinical party to involve him in discussion. At the end, 
knowing that his word cannot then save Judaism from dying 
in its sin, he again lifts up his voice against their customs. 
But again he begins by the command to practise and lay to 
heart all that the existing authorities teach, and again shows 
that their teaching is not to be scorned but to be improved upon 


in motive and in heartfelt performance ; and when he laments 
the woes that will certainly befall the devotees of a mistaken 
religious zeal, and points out the faults which will be the causes 
of these calamities, it is evident that the accusations brought 
against the leaders of the stricter party in the Jewish Church 
are such as would have tended, if heeded, to purify that party 
rather than to break it up. He again accuses them of being 
artificial ; and to this is added the charge of spiritual pride and 
the zeal that springs from it, the exaltation of small distinctions 
and duties to the loss of the great principles of goodness, care 
for the external life where the springs of motives are false, and, 
last and worst, the devotion to dead teachers while those who 
are inspired with the living truth which makes for growth are 
stoned. These warnings can be launched effectively against 
many workers in any section of the Church ; they are, in fact, 
taken severally and each set forth in its different aspects, the 
burden of warning breathed by every faithful Christian shepherd 
to his flock. The first grouping of them all together with con- 
summate skill displays, perhaps more clearly than any other ot 
his sermons, what we call the religious genius of Jesus ; and 
the fact that he was manifested at the moment when the faults 
of the Church had donned their most concrete dress proves, if 
we believe in a divine plan for the religious development ot 
the race, that it was of first importance that true religion should 
be exhibited as at enmity with the most natural faults of the 
religious. But it is impossible for any one conversant with 
the state of Jewish thought at the time to suppose that our 
Lord intended to dispute the authority of the Scribes and 
Pharisees for that generation. Against the supposed righteous- 
ness of the Rabbinic Halakoth — the worst and most degrading 
mistake as to what constituted obedience to the God of life 
and love which has ever been found in the history of the earthly 
Church since the individual conscience developed — concerning 
that Jesus says very little. Edersheim says, " The worst blow- 
he dealt it was that of neglect." 

When all polemic was over, when Jesus admitted that 


his message to Judaism as a Church had been rejected, what 
did he do ? Did he oppose himself openly to it, and in his 
last hours with his followers commission them to break with 
it ? We have no indication of such a spirit on his part, and 
clear evidence to the contrary. There is no record that the 
infant Church, even when under the fullest inspiration of the 
descending Spirit, conceived of itself as standing upon the ruins 
of Judaism. We may perhaps learn from this short but 
specially inspired period of Church history the doctrines ot 
Christian Socialism, of mystic guidance, and the need ot 
common and continued prayer, but of iconoclasm, of the spirit 
that strikes at traditional authority, there is not the slightest 
trace. Even the leader of the apostles, the orator of Pentecost, 
had no conception that he was at liberty to neglect Judaic 
restrictions, or welcome to Christian fellowship those who 
remained in the environment of other customs. It needed 
vision and voice from heaven repeated three times to introduce 
these ideas ; and when introduced, long and painful controver- 
sies only developed them slowly. 

Such, then, was the character of the Protestant teaching ot 
Jesus ; and this protest was the pushing of the large divine 
goodness against the narrowness of man's religion. The exist- 
ing Church said, " Obey the letter." He replied, by precept 
and life, " The letter killeth " ; and this phrase really sums up 
the whole of his opposition. But the Protestantism of Jesus 
was only a small, though essential, part of his message. The 
larger share of his time was given to preaching that " the Spirit 
giveth life," and the effect of his Protestantism can only be 
fully understood when considered as a part of the total effect 
of his whole teaching, as in the case of any other reformer. 
Two things only as regards this completer view can here be 
noted — that the extreme temperance of his Protestantism left 
the more room for his constructive work, and that the sub- 
stance of that constructive work consisted in truths which, 
although they must eventually break up a dead letter, were 
on such a different level that they did not obviously clash with 


it. He hid in the heart of Judaism a life principle which must 
ultimately break the shell not only of its formulae but of all 
successive formula? as they are outgrown. 

The result of the temperate Protestantism of Jesus as 
applied to the very unfavourable condition of the existing 
Church was that the schism, when it came, did actually divide 
between the wheat and the chaif, the fruit-bearing and the 
dead trees, the sheep and the goats. This cannot be said of 
any reformation since. 

The form of Christianity resembled the form of Judaism 
very closely at first, and changed from it very gradually. The 
new was added to the old ; that was all, to begin with. The 
very apostle who was fighting to gain for the Gentiles this 
same freedom (to exercise their Christian faith with as little 
change of external custom as might be) took upon himself a 
Pharisaic vow in the precincts of the daily sacrifice. And may 
we not say that when God saw that the temple- worship had 
ceased to nourish faith — ^and mark how quickly under the 
immediate influence of Christ's method faith was weaned from 
its accustomed form — the external conditions that made the 
sacrifices possible were removed ? Had the spirit of the Church 
remained true in all its progress to the example of the divine 
reformer, we believe that all such forms of Judaism and 
heathenism as were not desirable would have slowly and gently 
folded themselves back from the opening bud and fallen as the 
sere calix falls when the flower expands. Instead of this, how 
has the spirit of Judaism, as in this matter it contrasts with 
the spirit of Christianity, triumphed ! It is of the very essence 
of human religion to believe that it is possible to translate 
God's truth so literally into human forms or formulae that their 
converse must be false, and therefore that God is to be served 
by the sword of controversy. 

Let us consider, by way of example and contrast, the 
Reformation of Luther. If he upon his awakening had said, 
" Calamity will certainly come upon you, ye saints of the 
Church, who knock down the forgiveness of sins under the 


hammer of the auctioneer," we believe that he would have 
carried with him the great body of the sober religious of that 
time. They did not, of course, approve of Tetzel's brutal 
auctioneering any more than did Luther, and the closest analogy 
may be observed between them and the pious adherents of 
Judaism in the time of Christ. It was that which mediaeval 
saints did soberly believe concerning the rights vested in a 
visible authority which made Tetzel possible ; and without their 
genuine goodness, their tears of true contrition, their true self- 
denials and holy motives, the abuse of Tetzel, and indeed every 
other abuse that the great Church harboured, would have been 
harmless, for men are too literally made in the image of truth 
to lie long in the toils of an unmixed wrong. Had Luther 
gone on to take every abuse toward which the conscience of 
the saints of the Church was pointing, were it ever so feebly, 
and to charge it upon the whole Church with bitter cries of 
woe, his protest would gradually have carried all true souls 
with him. They would have been the last to disclaim their 
responsibility. Rising in the might of true goodness that 
depends upon God, they wotJd have responded to his call, and 
so he would have purged the temple. Intestine war there 
would probably have been ; the chaff separated fix)m the grain 
by the winnowing fan would have eddied and darkened the 
air ; the dross would not have been consumed until the crucible 
had been made very hot; between the carnally minded and 
spiritually minded there would undoubtedly have been, not 
peace but a sword ; but our point is that the fan in that case 
would actually have divided between those who chose the grace 
of God and those who preferred the disgrace of the carnal mind. 
Anything that might have been left when a true reformation 
had been accomplished, would have been as dead spiritually as 
was Judaism when Christianity had finally emerged and 
separated from it — an ashen crust to show where fire had been, 
a shell from which wings had taken flight, a sloughed-ofF skin. 
This remaining thing might or might not have called itself " the 
Church," but the true Church would have gone on in its 


continuous life to fresh conquests of new truths. That victory, 
once won, would have been won for ever. 

Is it not clear that Luther's attempt to define what he 
supposed to be the converse of the spiritual truth which God 
had given him, and his determination to impose this definition 
upon the Church, resulted in this, that when Christendom was 
split by the wedge against which he was heaving such heroic 
blows, the line of cleavage ran not between good and evil, 
saint and sinner, but divided the army of the saints pretty 
equally into two halves ? And thus the truth, which is always 
first concrete, a life — ^a word only in so far as word can be lived 
— ^was divided also ; and God could not be God and give the 
moral victory to either party ; the wound could not " heal with 
the first intention," nay, could be nothing but a running sore 
of battle. 

Error 1 God save the right 1 What could be the error of 
calling the motherly element in the divine nature by the name 
of Mary as compared with conceiving the Almighty as wholly 
material, as himself performing ablutions and wearing phylac- 
teries, as causing the counsels of Heaven to wait on the 
decisions of an earthly Sanhedrim ? Or again, if it be error to 
conceive of God's wrath as being appeased by horrid austerities 
or pious deeds, we can at least conceive such penance as being 
an expression, if a mistaken one, of true contrition ; whereas we 
should be indeed lost to Christian sentiment if we could find 
the expression of any God-given emotion in the rule for the 
highest degree of Pharisaic punctiliousness. If it was a crime 
of the Church to essay the persuasion of heretics by fire and 
sword, how much wor;5e and more material was' the — to us — 
fiendish desire of the pious Jew to sweep the nations before him 
from the face of earth and hope of heaven, and feast for ever in 
celebration of their doom 1 If monastic vows made division 
between nature and holiness, the ideal of life and worship 
which underlay them was at once more pure and charitable 
than any conception of holiness in the Jewish Halakah. 
Among those born of human parentage there is perhaps none 


much greater than Luther, yet we cannot suppose that Jesus, 
who left the whole false fabric of Judaic thought and practice 
to perish by its own natural decay, would under any provo- 
cation have struck, as at last did Luther, at the authority to 
which all Christendom then bowed, subjecting to a to-morrow 
of anarchy millions of sheep who could not as yet comprehend 
the call of a new shepherd. Jesus would surely have denounced, 
as did Luther, the corruptions of the Papal Court, which every 
honest Papist bitterly deplored ; would have spoken out more 
strongly than did Luther or Erasmus, of enforced vows and the 
utter shame of selling, not only spiritual gifts, but mere legal 
justice, to the highest bidder ; but he could not have been less 
tolerant of the ecclesiastical authority of that day than he was 
of the Scribes and Pharisees of his own time. 

Passing from this suggestion of the contrast between the 
Protestantism of Christ and that of Luther, let us again illus- 
trate our point by comparing the divine example with the 
latest developments of the religious life of our own nation. 
That reformatory impulse commonly called "The Oxford 
Movement" evinced both true and false Protestantism. It 
was, of course, Protestant in so far as it upheld the Anglican 
difference with Rome, but its freshest and most active protest 
was directed against the party historically known as ** Evan- 
gelical," a name at that time covering three schools — that of 
dead formalism, a legacy from the eighteenth century that still 
remained in both the English and Scottish Established Churches ; 
that of an Evangelical revival within the Anglican Church 
associated with the name of Simeon of Cambridge ; and, thirdly, 
that type of eager religion of the same sort among the Non- 
conformists which had its rise with Methodism. 

The High Churchman cried : " Woe unto you who glory 
in the overturning of those things still sacred to the conscience 
of Christian multitudes, who reverence the inspiration of a few 
and fail to perceive the larger inspiration of the continuous and 
corporate Church ; who prate of a spiritual religion and damn 
the souls of those who come to know the spiritual as it clothes 


itself in some material betauty ; who regard words as the only 
medium of spiritual influence, and fail to grasp the sacredness 
of other material symbols through which we feel toward the 
divine affinity of all things." 

In thus charging the religious of the nation with their faults, 
the Protestantism of this modern party resembles the Protes- 
tantism of Jesus ; but here, we are obliged to observe, the 
resemblance ends. The distinguishing feature of our Lord's 
ministry, as we have seen, was not only that its Protestantism 
was almost wholly aimed against the separatist, i.^., Pharisaic, 
position, but that his positive teaching is absolutely without 
that separatist principle to which humanity is so prone. Let 
us see, by its practical result, how the Oxford movement 
deviated from this spirit. 

Analyse the training of any child brought up in the prin- 
ciples bequeathed by this movement. Such a child is taught a 
ceremonial separatism in kind and intensity very like that 
which Pharisaism inculcated ; and this separatism, like that of 
Pharisaism, is not on the ground of any moral or spiritual 
worth on the one side and lack of worth on the other, for it is 
from many who are Uving most holy lives of devotion to Christ 
that he is to keep himself apart. This aloofiiess necessarily 
engenders in him more or less of the judgment of distrust and 
contempt. This attitude towards his brother will be enough 
to prevent him from having any true estimate of the motive for 
which Jesus, according to his own teaching, lived and died ; 
while, further, the conception which he must infer of God's 
fatherhood is niggardly and inadequate, because a system so 
ineffectual in promoting good feeling not only tells against the 
fatherhood of God, but against his mere justice and faithful- 
ness as a creator. Having thus produced in the child warped 
conceptions of those weightiest matters of justice and mercy by 
throwing the whole burden of salvation upon an inadequate 
system, these " Churchmen '* next teach him in the reading of 
history and surrounding fact to pervert what should be the 
highest effort of mind after clear insight and true proportion, 


for all things must be made to fit the doctrine of one visible 
and indivisible Church. Just so was the young Jew trained 
by the Scribes of the Christian era. 

But if this unlikeness to the methods of Jesus be found in 
the protest of " Anglican Catholics," against what is specifically 
termed the " Protestantism " of Christendom, what must be 
said of the wide divergence of the most modem " Protestant " 
agitators from their divine prototjrpe ? It is difficult to see the 
resemblance between things so different, to conceive of the Great 
First Protestant as "Anti-Papist " or "Anti-Ritualist," for there 
often appears to be little positive Illumination in the ministry 
of such as these. They are not even successors of Luther. 
The positive illumination which Luther and his followers 
brought to the Church was very great. However mistaken 
they may have been in their negations and destructive policy, 
their word concerning God's immediate fatherhood for the 
individual soul, his personal inspiration in it, his fostering cas^e 
of its truth, was a most true echo of our Lord's essential doc- 
trine, an application of it so necessary to the spiritual growth 
of the race that, resounding through the history of that time, 
we hear the music of the promise, " Greater things than these 
shall ye do." 

The true heirs of Luther's gospel are those who look to the 
future rather than to the past for the perfect creed ; who are 
able to work intensely, by prayer and by such form of expres- 
sion as is given to them, to show forth the inexorable quality 
of love which wiU have nothing less, as the final word from any 
man, than holiness. Such men are, indeed, the true successors 
of the Jewish prophets, of every true reformer within the 
Church of Rome or in the ranks of historic Protestantism. 
They approach the example of Jesus. That example would 
seem to have little place in the hearts of men who make con- 
tradiction an abiding element in their religious zeal, and direct 
their chief efforts against things external which cannot defile. 

The Author of " Pro Christo et Ecclesia." 


THE remarkable discovery of ancient Greek statues in the 
sea off the Island of Cerigo, the ancient Cythera, has 
added several more masterpieces to the rich store of ancient 
art treasures with which the last few years has furnished us, 
In these latter days, the excavator and the diver have presented 
us with a greater number of specimens of ancient statuary, 
especially bronzes, that are fully representative of the spirit of 
Greek art, than all the centuries since, in the ItaUan renaissance, 
works of art were sought for and treasured. It is to four of 
these recently discovered statues, each of them unique and 
typical of the several periods of Greek sculptm*e to which they 
belong, that I wish in this short article to draw especial 
attention. I have thus singled out the finest of the works 
discovered in the sea, the " Bronze Hermes," which is worthy 
of our closest attention, and to which the bulk of my remarks 
will be devoted ; to this I have added one specimen of marble 
sculpture out of the same find, the " Crouching Warrior.*' 
I then wish to consider the "Bronze Athlete," discovered a 
few months ago at Pompeii ; and, finally, I wish to complete 
the series with the " Bronze Charioteer," so happily discovered 
by the French in their excavations at Delphi. I venture to 
maintain that the first and the last of these four statues are as 
perfect representatives of Greek sculpture as any that have 
come down to us — perhaps they are the most perfect. 


For in support of what I have just said with regard to the 
discoveries of recent years compared with those of former 
centuries, it is important for us to remember that the works 
we are here discussing are originals and not ancient copies. 
The specimens of ancient art upon which previous generations 
formed their estimate of Hellenic art — ^an estimate as sincere 
and lofty as it bore fruits in a refined enthusiasm for things 
beautiful — were, with but few exceptions, ancient marble 
copies of a late Greco-Roman period. More than nine-tenths 
of the much admired statues that fill the museums of Italy and 
the rest of the continent are not works of original Greek 
sculpture, but are such Greco-Roman copies. 

The Elgin marbles, coming to us at the beginning of this 
century, were a revelation, and marked the turning-point in 
archseological study and in artistic taste. Indeed, so much 
were they a revelation that the connoisseurs and dilettanti, 
the canons of whose taste were based upon the Apollo 
Belvedere and the Venus dei Medici, entirely failed to 
recognise their supreme beauty, and that it required the 
militant support of a few isolated sculptors of the day to win 
a reluctant recognition of their supreme value. 

But the Elgin marbles as well as the iEginetan statues 
now at Munich, the Phigalean frieze in the British Museum, 
the sculptures from the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, from 
the Temple of Nike Apteros at Athens, &c. &c., are works of 
decorative or architectural sculpture, not of pure statuary — 
they were not the masterpieces from the hands of the great 
sculptors upon which these based their fame. High as we may 
place these architectural sculptures among all the extant works 
of art — and nothing can surpass the Parthenon marbles as 
specimens of sculpture — it is important for us to remember 
that they were works of decorative art, and that in so far they 
do not fully represent the supreme qualities of a Pheidias, a 
Scopas, a Praxiteles or a Lysippus, which these artists put into 
their famous works of pure sculpture. 

The question naturally suggests itself why these hundreds, 

No. 8. III. 2.— May 1901 h 


nay thousands, of marble copies from ancient times which 
fill our museums should have remained extant and not 
the originals ? The answer to this is a simple one. In the 
highest period of Greek art, during the fifth century b.c,, 
marble and stone were not the materials in which the great 
sculptors put their highest artistic ideas. The material used 
for the great works of sculpture (having in the earliest times 
been chiefly wood) was gold and ivory or bronze — ^gold and 
ivory for the chief temple statues, and bronze for out-of-door 
monuments, especially the statues representing athletes. 
Marble, which was used for architectural and decorative 
sculpture, was in the fourth century more and more introduced 
as -material for works of pure sculpture, until with Scopas and 
Praxiteles it became a favourite material ; while, towards the 
close of the century with Lysippus, bronze, at all times holding 
its own, again predominates. But even with Scopas and 
Praxiteles the marble statue was not the same as it is in our 
days. For, exquisite as the modelling undoubtedly was (this 
the Hermes alone shows us), the colouring and tinting formed 
an integral part of the artistic elaboration : it was a technique 
so highly developed and so refined in its application that even 
the trained archaeologist can hardly form an adequate concep- 
tion of its effect. Still, these great marble statues of Scopas 
and Praxiteles were not numerous. Exposed as they were in 
their central position of the shrine, they readily fell into the 
hands of the iconoclast. When we remember that the archi- 
tectural sculpture which has come down to us owed its 
preservation to the fact that the buildings to which it belonged 
became converted into churches and mosques, and that even so 
the proportion of extant works is infinitesimally small, we 
cannot expect many of the great marble statues to be preserved 
to us. The Heraeum of Argos, for instance, in the metopes 
and pediments, must have contained over one hundred figures. 
We considered ourselves fortunate in discovering seven com- 
plete heads and two torsi, besides numerous smaller fragments. 
We must thus never forget that the chief works were 


of gold and ivory and bronze ; and it can readily be realised 
that the barbarous hordes sweeping over classic lands melted 
down and utilised all the metal wherever they could find it. 
While we must therefore be grateful to the Greco-Roman 
copyist for having with his inferior handicraft preserved for us 
some record of the masterpieces of ancient art, we must be all 
the more elated when kind fortune brings us face to face with 
a Greek original. These at once manifest their superiority so 
strikingly that every original work, even though it be by a less 
famous artist and of a more degenerate period of ancient art, 
is naturally supposed to be by one of the great artists and of 
the highest period. So, for instance, the glorious Venus of 
Melos in the Louvre Museum, though I believe it to be a 
work of the Hellenistic period (drawing, it is true, its inspira- 
tion from the great art of the fifth century b.c.), has been 
attributed to every great sculptor from Pheidias to Praxiteles ; 
and it is hard for us to realise that the equally glorious Victory 
of Samothrace, in the same museum, was probably by an artist 
of the second flight, and is not earlier than the close of the 
fourth century b.c. 

When we realise these facts regarding Greek sculpture we 
are better prepared to appreciate the important discovery of an 
undoubted Greek original. Since the Germans excavated the 
Hermes with the Infant Dionysus at Olympia in 1877, which 
presented us with an undoubted original work (though not one 
of his famous ones) by the master Praxiteles, nearly every year 
has yielded up some new treasure from Greek soil ; and now 
we have presented to us a number of original statues, among 
them life-size bronzes, one of which is undoubtedly of the 
same school, if not by the same hand, as the Olympian Hermes, 
and can claim to equal if not to surpass it in the peculiar noble 
grace and charm of the art of the Praxitelean period. 

The discoveries off Cerigo have not been completed ; they 
have only been begun. Who knows what the depths of the 
sea may yet have in store for us ? The lucky accident which 
led the sponge-diver to discover this treasure is now replaced 


by the designed skill of capable archfleologists. The work is in 
the hands of the Director-General of Antiquities, Mr. Cawadias, 
whose researches hitherto have been as thorough as they have 
been successful. With him and M. Stais as the Minister of 
Public Instruction, we can feel sure that the work is in good 

Besides the two statues here figured from this find, there 
are two other interesting bronze statuettes, six marble 
statuettes, and the torso of a large marble centaur, much 
corroded by the salt water. It appears that the statues here 
figured have been comparatively free from the corrosive effects 
of the salt water, in spite of their immersion for about 2000 
years, because they had sunk into the sandy bottom, where they 
lay embedded. We may hope that at a greater depth other 
works will be found in equally good preservation. 

Some difference of opinion exists as to how these works 
came to be there, and as to what the ship was that contained 
them. As we take the one or the other view we come to a 
difference of nearly 2000 years. For it has been maintained 
by some that it must be the English yacht Mentor which in 
1802 conveyed a part of the marbles carried off by Lord Elgin 
and which foundered off Cerigo. But apart from the fact that 
the chief works hitherto found off Cerigo are bronzes and not 
marbles, and that we have no record of Lord Elgin's procuring 
such, we have the well-authenticated assurance of Lord Elgin 
himself that the cargo had subsequently been recovered from 
the sea and had been brought to England. On the other hand, 
Lucian, commenting on the great paintings by the famous 
painter Zeuxis, had to content himself with a copy when 
describing the famous picture of a centaur family by that 
artist, for he tells us that the original picture which SuUa 
carried off from Greece (no doubt with many other works ot 
art) was lost in a shipwreck off Cape Malea. Furthermore, 
we have recently heard that the anchor and some of the timbers 
of an ancient vessel have been brought to light with the statues. 
It is thus highly probable that the statues now recovered from 


the sea were those which Sulla once attempted to carry off to 
Rome. But for this shipwreck it is not likely that the bronzes 
would ever have been preserved to us. 

I. We begin with the most beautiful of these finds. It is 
a life-size bronze figure of a youth of whom we can here only 
give the upper half. But what is here presented, including 
the head, arms and hands, is in excellent preservation. We 
are glad to hear that both legs have been found, and enough of 
the remainder of the body to make a complete restoration 
possible. The correspondent of the Times tells us that " the 
figure is poised on the left foot, the right being thrown back- 
ward ; the right arm is extended, the hand apparently grasping 
a wreath or sacrificial phial." 

With this description we are enabled to reconstruct the 
composition, at least in imagination. But even with what we 
have now before us we are justified in considering this the 
finest ancient bronze in existence, perhaps even the finest 
Greek statue. It at once challenges comparison with the 
famous marble Hermes of Praxiteles from Olympia. Yet I 
venture to consider this in some respects a nobler work : for 
not only the type of the youth himself, but also the conception 
and execution of the artist, are more virile, less sentimental ; 
and I feel sure that the effect of this statue will grow upon the 
spectator, whereas that of the beautiful Hermes, striking and 
bewitching though it may be, is apt to wane, if not to pall. I 
may at once say that the similarity in the head to the rough, 
blocked-out character in the modelling of the hair are strikingly 
similar in this bronze and in the marble Hermes by Praxiteles. 
And this is so in spite of the difference between the material, 
which leads to a difference in the style of modelling. The 
similarity in general character and in all details is such that I 
venture to ascribe them both, at least to the same school, if 
not to the same master. But I should not be inclined to 
ascribe it to the generation of Praxitelean artists immediately 
succeeding the great Praxiteles. For the son of Praxiteles, 
Cephisodotus the Younger, is noted for the extreme softness 


and sensuousness (morbidezza) of his modelling of the nude ; 
while in this bronze I recognise, in spite of the delicacy of 
modelling, a certain moderateness and firmness of texture in 
the nude which is even more marked than in the marble 
Hermes, and may be due to the more athletic conception which 
the artist has here held of such a youthful figure. We have 
also heard that some archaeologists (among them my eminent 
colleague of the French School at Athens, M. Perdrizet) have 
seen in this work characteristics of the sculptor Lysippus. I 
am bound to say that I can see no trace of this in the work. 
The mere outline of the head, comparatively large, broader 
at the top, and tapering towards the chin, is so different from 
the small, almost circular, heads of Lysippean statues that one 
might almost contrast this bronze head, corresponding exactly 
to that of the Hermes, with the Lysippean type. There is 
thus every reason in favour of, and no valid reason against, the 
attribution of this work to Praxiteles or the Praxitelean School. 
This will become more evident as we note the characteristics 
of the work in detail. 

The same may be said with regard to the subject repre- 
sented in the statue , for though I may at once say that the 
name Hermes is provisionally as good as any, yet the true 
meaning of the statue can only become clear when we analyse 
carefully the composition and execution of the work before us. 

To begin with the beautiful pose and composition of the 
figure, we are of course hampered inasmuch as we must not 
only supply in imagination the lower part of the figure, but we 
are confined to one aspect and cannot study the statue from 
all sides. It must never be forgotten that, as a true work of 
sculpture in the round ought to be perfect and convincingly 
expressive of action and character from every side from which 
the spectator views it, so a complete recognition of its 
meaning ought to be preceded by such an " all-round '* 
examination. In so far what I shall have to say must be 
received with limitations. 

We are told that the figure is resting on the left leg, the 


right leg being drawn back. On the other hand the right 
shoulder is pushed forward, the arm and hand upraised and 
extended, while the left arm and shoulder are drawn back. 
This at once gives that cross rhythm (chiasmos) to the figure 
which adds an inner life to the whole composition, and, with 
this life, repose. The two sides of the figure, as it were, move 
transversely — ^right foot back, right arm forward ; left foot 
forward, left arm back. Try by experiment this delicate 
difference in attitude and composition and you will see how 
different the feeling of movement and the character of the 
composition are. If the same arm and leg were extended and 
drawn back on the same plane, there would not be that play 
and delicate tension of all the intervening muscles, and the 
general appearance of vitality would not be as great. At the 
same time a figure stepping forward with the left leg, the left 
arm upraised and extended, and the right leg and arm 
correspondingly drawn back, would give the general impression 
of an advance which would be strikingly momentary and 
passing, and would counteract the sense of repose which the 
" cross rhythm " here gives. 

And added to this movement of the body we have the 
slight bend forward and downward of the head, the eyes 
looking intently forward, and the head so beautifully posed on 
the exquisitely modelled neck. If we add this pose of the 
head to the general movement and rhythm of the body and 
the action of the hand, the whole harmonises with the ex- 
pression of the face, to which it gives clear yet moderate 
emphasis. This expression of the face is thoughtful, eager, 
and yet not sensationally emotional ; the half parted lips as if 
about to speak, the sensitive nostrils that may at any moment 
quiver with emotion, the eyes directed clearly and attentively 
towards the people or the things to which the body is turned 
and the hand is upraised — all bear this out fully. And with 
all this vividness there is a certain dignity, almost sadness of 
rhythm and expression, which tones the momentary strain and 
keenness down to a noble repose. 


Nothing expresses this complex and still clear mood and 
situation more than the outline of the arm and hand. An arm 
upraised is of itself a marked and momentary movement ; it 
demands strain of muscles especially at the shoulder, and it 
might easily become too momentary for sculpture, merging 
into the sensational and theatrical with the total absence of 
simplicity and sculpturesque repose. This would be the case 
if an arm were stretched out firmly in one straight line, either 
horizontally or upwards or downwards, instead of having the 
varied softer curves in outline from the wrists to the shoulder 
given with such exquisite modulation and delicacy in the out- 
line of this arm of Hermes. I must ask the reader to try 
these simple attitudes himself in order to appreciate their 
import, such "experiments" being the safest guides to the 
understanding of composition in sculpture. 

In this upraised arm we have a bend at the elbow which 
counteracts the strained, cramped, more violently energetic 
extension as suggested in the action of muscles at the shoulder. 
But most of all is this complex, delicate impression conveyed 
by the wrist. If the wrist were a direct continuation and 
muscular extension of the movement of the arm, the momen- 
tary energy in the action of such a figure would be thorouglily 
conveyed. But in this statue there is just here a stop of the 
current, a wave and curve downwards, which to a marked 
degree adds to the reposeful movement of the gesture ; and 
the character of this gesture is finally expressed by the hand. 

In an energetic, sensational movement (such as I remember 
M. Mounet-Sully, of the Comddie Fran9aise, habitually to 
favour), we should have the hand either uplifted from the wrist 
on, or extended horizontally, or pointed downwards. We 
might say that the hand extended straight with a continuation 
of the horizontal stretch of the arm would signify positive com- 
mand ; the hand as a whole pointed upwards would signify a 
forbidding command and interdict; the hand pointed down- 
wards would mark the announcement of a decision and an 
appeal to submission. The hand of the Hermes is gently 

Plat£ 1. — Bronze Hermes recovered off Cerigo. 


persuasive — half a command, half an appeal for silence ; we can 
almost imagine Marc Antony beginning his speech with this 
gesture. This hand has neither of the three attitudes enume- 
rated above. The first effect it conveys in outline is that of 
a gentle curve with no straight angular line, and such a curve 
of itself tends to soften down the movement, as was the case 
in the outline of the arm. We cannot perceive much of the 
inside of the hand, which I feel sure is modelled with the 
greatest care. Even in this view we can note the delicate 
indication of the skin between the thumb and the first finger 
as affected by this position of the hand. 

Let us pursue this wonderful work of a great sculptor lite- 
rally "to the finger-tips." The fingers are spread out in a 
curved manner. They are exquisitely modelled, long, thin 
fingers. The thumb is seen in the front view ; the two middle 
fingers are delicately bent together, while the third finger is 
drooping outwards, and the little finger downwards. It is not 
"precious" exaggeration to say that the two middle fingers 
express more energy, while the drooping of the others counter- 
acts this. If they were all bent equally close together or at 
equal intervals, they would express a clutch or a grasp. 

It has been maintained that the hand has either held some 
spherical object, such as a ball, or has just thrown it The 
Hermes would thus be in the attitude of an athlete about to 
throw, or who has just thrown, a ball. This is impossible as 
regards the attitude of the whole figure, as well as the action 
of the hand. He is not clutching or holding anything, 
nor is there any indication that he had just held a round 
object. Try to hold a cricket ball or a larger ball, and you 
wiD see how all fingers are equally curved, the thumb included. 
Throw a ball and watch your hand after the ball has left, and 
you will again see an equal extension and curve of all the 
dingers. The gesture conveyed by this hand is a delicate and 
reposeful movement, calming and persuasive, blessing or prais- 
ing, or appealing for attention, as clearly as this situation is 
expressed in the whole composition. 


But an ancient statue with an extended hand which does 
not contain some attribute may be considered so exceptional 
as not readily to be admitted in this case. Still, if we look 
about us among works of ancient sculpture, we shall find so 
many instances presenting similar gestures, that our conjecture 
may be said to attain the 
points of certainty. Who- 
i^,, ever has studied Greek 

sepulchral slabs and Greek 
vase-paintings must realise 
how highly developed was 
the gesture -language in 
real life, and how freely 
it was adopted in the 
works of sculptors and 
painters. The numerous 
statues of Koman em- 
perors, beginning with the 
splendid bronze equestrian 
statue of Marcus Aurelius 
on the Capitol, the Augus- 
tus at Turin, the Mare 
Antony at Wilton House, the Trajan in Lansdowne House, 
and many others, though some may have had the hands 
restored, still point to this gesture. But, leaving later 
Roman works, we find similar gestures without the holding of 
attributes in Greek reliefs of the same, and even of earlier, 
periods to which the bronze Hermes belongs. The youth from 
an Attic sepulchral slab of the fourth century B.C., here given, 
though the sculptor could not carry out the difficult task of so 
complex and graceful a pose in relief, is extending his hand in 
simple gesture to bid farewell or to greet or to bless, while a 
boy is crouching below. The thumb of the hand has been 
broken away and reveals the imperfectly modelled inside of 
the hand, which was never meant to be seen with that 


The ann of the goddess Athene on a relief heading an 
inscription of the fourth century b.c. is extended in a similar 
manner ; while a small hand of Athene 
upon which an owl is fluttering shows 
how a hand holding nothing was dealt 
with, and is all that remains of a similar 
heading to an Attic inscription. 

Another interesting inscription con- 
tained names of youths who had distin- 
guished themselves in the gymnasium ' 
of the Falffistra. The heading to this 
inscription is ornamented with a sculp- 
tured relief upon which a male figure, /^i^-^^V-^? 
probably a divinity, is crowning the \^J — 
athlete. Beside the male divinity a 

female figure extends her arm and hand in gesture similar 
to, though not identical with, that of the Hermes. Above her 
is the inscription *' Eutaxia," which 
shows her to be the personification 
of good behaviour and distinction in 
the Paltestra. As she thus personi- 
fies the praise recorded on the in- 
scription, the gesture of her arm and 
hand as well are meant to express 
and to convey these. 

Finally, I would point to one of 
the beautiful reliefs that was dis< 
covered on the Acropolis of Athens 
in 187T, at the Temple of ^scula- 
pius. iEsculapius is here seated, 
and before him stands Hygieia. An 
altar ts placed between her and a 
small adorant who is advancing 
towards the god and goddess. The 
goddess, by the gesture of her right hand, is either addressing 
the worshippers as they advance or is blessing them, and 


the action of this arm and hand are to my mind as close an 
analogy to that of the bronze Hermes as we require, at 
least to realise that it was customary for ancient sculptors to 
introduce such gestures into their work, and that the attitude 
of such an arm and hand does not presuppose the " holding of 
a spherical object" 

The left arm of the statue is extended downwards. Where 
the bronze has not been too much 
corroded, especially from the biceps 
down to the elbow, one can mark 
on the right arm the beautiful 
modelling of the surface, on which 
the veins are dehcately suggested 
but not coarsely indicated. The 
hand holds nothing. It is the natural 
position when a hand is closed and 
not crampedly balled into a fist. 
The arm is slightly bent at the 
elbow and is drawn back at the 
shoulder, an action which tends to 
balance the figure stepping forward 
with the left foot and uplifting 
the right arm. This increases the 
effect of equipoise in the " cross rhythm " to which I referred 

It would be futile at this juncture to attempt to identify 
this statue with any works by Praxiteles or a member of his 
school mentioned in ancient authors. We must not forget that 
but an exceedingly small proportion of the works of ancient 
Greek artists have been mentioned by the authors that have 
come down to us. We know that Praxiteles was the sculptor 
of one Hermes, and it is likely that he made several other 
statues of that god. The class of works to which I should 
incline to ascribe this bronze is indicated to us by a group of 
statues which Pausanias^ saw in the Temple of Aphrodite at 
' 1. Chap, k-s-fi. 


Megara. He there saw the images of Persuasion and another 
goddess whom they named Comforter, which are works of 
Praxiteles. But Scopas made the images of Love and Lon^ng 
and Yearning (if indeed their functions are, like their names, 
distinct). Near the Temple of Aphrodite is the Sanctuary of 
Fortune. The image of Fortune is also a work of Praxiteles. 
The works of Scopas and Praxiteles here mentioned are what 
might be called allegorical : they are personifications of ideas 
or emotions. Now, if we could imagine the Persuasion and the 
Comforter in a male form, it would just be the type which the 
artist has given to this bronze statue. Moreover, it has been 
noted before, as regards such more human ideas when 
personified in a male figure, that the personification of good 
luck (kairos) by the sculptor Lysippus was probably put in the 
form of a Hermes, as this, the most human of divinities, was 
readily the bearer for the different shadings of human life. It 
is thus that one might, quite conjecturally, define this bronze 
Hermes by some such attribute as that of Orator or Comforter, 
Logios or Paregoros. 

II. The fragment of a marble group representing a half- 
crouching figure, of which the interpretation seems doubtful, 
was also found off Cerigo. M. Perdrizet considers the statue 
to be a part of a wrestling group similar to the well-known 
statues in the Uffizi at Florence. Another view is that the 
crouching youth is a bowman who has just sent off the arrow. 
I think we can safely say that the figure in question represents 
neither of these actions. The youth is crouching down, the 
body bent forward, the head eagerly upturned ; while the left 
arm is raised upwards, and the right arm, the hand holding 
some rounded object, is stretched downwards. The action is 
so clearly that of combined defence and attack from below 
upwards towards an adversary who fights from above, that it 
would not require the corroboration of the ancient monuments 
which I can adduce to show this. The crouching youth held 
an upraised shield on his left arm, while the sword or spear, 
more probably the former, was evidently held in bis down- 




stretched right arm ; his aetion being that, at the next moment, 
he will plunge his sword into the belly of the horse or centaur 
advancing towards him. It is an attitude which we have in 
several representations of ancient warriors, of which the 
beautiful small bronze from the Blacas collection in the Biblio- 
thdque Nationale of Paris, formerly called the Deiphobos, is a 
representative type. But the nearest illustration is afforded 
us in one of the metopes from the Parthenon, no longer 
extant, but preserved for us in the drawing which Jacques 
Carrey, who accompanied the Marquis De Nointel, the ambas- 
sador of Louis XIV. to the 
Porte, made in 1674. This 
drawing I reproduce here. It 
will be seen that, though the 
lapith who is struggling with 
the rearing centaur is turned 
the other way round, his ac- 
tion with the upraised shield 
in the left arm and the sword- 
thrust of his right hand from 
below are the same ; and I 
venture to think that this 
illustration will make the evi- 
dence complete. But I would not have it believed that the 
marble from Cerigo is in its origin directly related to the 
Parthenon sculptures. The modelling of the body and the 
head, as well as the attitude, are full of life and vigour, and 
point to a tendency of art not earlier than the sculptor 
Lysippus in the second half of the fourth centiuy b.c. The 
numerous battle-scenes presented by Lysippus and Leochares 
established a tradition which, with the pupils of Lysippus, was 
engrafted upon the schools of Asia Minor, notably those of 
Pergamon and Rhodes. As far as I can judge from the 
photograph, I should be inclined to ascribe the workmanship of 
this statue and group to one of these Hellenistic schools, 
though I must confess that in the bronzelike treatment of the 


hair as well as in the type of the face I seem to recognise 
Lysippean elements. 

III. When last November the daily papers announced the 

discovery at Pompeii of the " Bronze Statue of an Idol by 

Polycrates," I ventured to conjecture that in the telegram the 

name Polycrates had been substituted for that of the sculptor 

Polycleitos of Argos, this younger contemporary and rival of 

Pheidias ; and I further conjectured that, as a famous bronze 

statue in the Uffizi at Florence goes under the name of Idolino, 

and is undoubtedly of Polycleitan type, the correspondent or 

telegraph clerk had confused matters and so produced the 

garbled message we received. My conjecture was a happy 

one, for the well-preserved bronze statue of a youth recently 

excavated at Pompeii is supposed by its discoverers to be 

closely related to the Idolino ; and though in Roman times 

it may have been used as a lamp-holder, they consider it 

an original Greek work dating back to a period even some 

years before Pheidias. Now, interesting and valuable as this 

discovery is, I do not believe that the statue dates from the 

fifth century b.c., but that in reality it belongs to that revival 

of earlier Greek art in the imperial age of Rome which is 

associated chiefly with the artist Pasiteles. Pasiteles flourished 

about the first half of the first century b.c., and originally came 

from the south of Italy. He was the founder of a school 

which we can pursue for three generations in extant works, 

a school, moreover, which marked a reaction against the 

sensational anatomical vigour of the schools of Pergamon and 

Rhodes, and which allowed itself to be inspired by the more 

reposeful and simple types of the great art of Greece in the 

fifth century b.c. There are several extant statues which can be 

identified with this school of Graeco-Roman " pre-Raphaelites." 

The most important of these is the statue of a youth in 

the Villa Albani, upon which the artist, Stephanos, has 

inscribed his name, calling himself a pupil of Pasiteles. The 

chief characteristics of these statues are the straight, broad 

shoulders, coupled with extreme thinness of the flanks and 


hips, and a general slimness of the rest of the figure. It 
almost looks as if these artists attempted to combine the 
heavier proportions in the canon of Polycleitos with the 
greatest slimness of the canon of Lysippus. In the statue 
by Stephanos the Lysippean influence has even affected the 
head, which is comparatirely very smalL In this recently- 
found bronze, on the other hand, the head as well as the 
shoulders still retain the Polycleitan characteristics, while the 
rest of the body is affected by this exaggerated slimness. We 
might thus conjecture that this Pompeian bronze is a precursor 
of the statue by Stephanos, and may give us some idea of what 
the figures of Pasiteles were like. At all events it is to this 
period and school that I should ascribe this interesting bronze. 

IV. Of far greater artistic value — in fact, of such excel- 
lence that, in its way, it can completely hold its own in com- 
parison with the beautiful bronze Hermes from Cerigo — is the 
life-size, well-preserved bronze Charioteer, the most important 
find made by the French in their recent excavation of Delphi. 
With this statue were found, besides an inscription giving us 
the name of the dedicator (though, unfortunately, not of the 
artist), fragments of the chariot, of the horses, of one figure 
which stood beside the charioteer in the chariot, as well as of 
a youthful figure standing before the horses. We thus have 
here a splendid dedication commemorating a victory in the 
chariot-race made by Polyzelos, the younger brother of Gelon 
and of Hicron of Syracuse. M. Homolle conjectures that the 
group was dedicated between 482 and 472 b.c. by Polyzelos, in 
memory of a victory by Gelon, the t)nrant of Syracuse, erected 
after his death. 

The peculiar dress of this figure, with the belt placed high 
up and the upper part of the tunic fastened by bands over the 
shoulder, which are crossed on the back to prevent the undue 
fiapping of drapery in the wind, is that customary with chario- 
teers. Its long, straight folds add to the appearance of * 
certain archaism and severity, which is accentuated by the 
simplicity of the pose in this erect figure. So, too, the firDfii 

Plate IV. — Bronze Charioteer recently excavated 
at Delphi. 


simple lines in the modelling of the brow and the nose, the 
crisp engraving to indicate the hair on the top of the head, 
point to the earlier, severer period before Greek sculpture had 
attained its fuU freedom. On the other hand, the masterly 
naturalistic modelling of the feet, one of which has the toes 
firmly pressed downwards to keep a firm position in the 
chariot; the exquisite modelling of the extended right arm 
and hand, in which the reins were held ; the perfect freedom 
of the modelling of the hair beneath the band on the sides 
and of the incipient beard — ^all these show that the artist has 
passed the stage of archaism and conventionalism, that the 
restraint is that of dignity, and not of incompetence. This 
statue has all the charm of those interesting works which 
stand on the very border-line of complete freedom and natu- 
ralism in all periods of art. In this it is like the work of a 
Mantegna or a Bellini, a Van Eyck, or a Donatello. It is 
undoubtedly a work by the very hand of a great master belong- 
ing to the period immediately preceding the art of Pheidias. 
Three schools of artists have been mentioned in connection 
with this statue : the school of Aegina, of which Onatas was 
the head ; the school of Rhegium, with Pjrthagoras as its head ; 
and the Attic school, as represented by Calamis. These were 
all famous artists of that period, who had created votive offer- 
ings to commemorate chariot races for Sicilian tyrants. It 
is not possible at this moment to claim certainty for its attri- 
bution to one of these three artists and schools ; but I am 
myself inclined towards its attribution to the Attic artist, 

Though I have only been able to touch upon a few points 
in connection with the rich discoveries of recent years, I believe 
enough has been said to show their great importance. At all 
events, I am confident that I am not exaggerating when I say 
that the Delphic Charioteer and the Hermes from Cerigo are 
the finest ancient Greek bronzes in existence. 

Charles Waldstein. 

No. 8. III. t.— Mat 1901 I 


P.S. — My friend M. Cawadias, to whom I had expressed a 
strong desire to learn as much as possible about the lower 
portion of the Hermes from Cerigo, has, with great kindness, 
sent me a photograph of all these fragments, which I have 
just received. It will be seen that both the legs, exquisitely 
modelled, are well preserved, and numerous fragments of the 
remainder of the figure. I am assured that, though the clean- 
ing and piecing together will occupy months, the statue will 

ultimately be complete. 

C. W. 



THE authorities of the Russian Church have at last put on 
record a fact which had been patent to the civilised 
world for half a generation — the discrepancy between their 
theological tenets and Tolstoi's. The Holy S3mod has excom- 
municated the Count, who has been busy these many years in 
excommunicating the Holy S)mod, The Synod's long delay 
in issuing this accusi de reception of Tolstoi's thunderbolts can 
only be explained by supposing that the watchfulness of the 
Censor has hitherto prevented their librarian from securing a 
copy of Tolstoi's religious works, or that Mr. Pobedonostsev 
has not been at leisure to read them. 

Seeing that Tolstoi and his disciples reject the '* senseless 
and immoral dogma of the redemption," ^ together with the 
doctrines of a personal deity, the divinity of Christ, a future 
conscious life, and other things by which the Church stands — 
together with all its ritual and ceremonies — ^it might be 
supposed that they would bear the blow with equanimity: 
that the disciples would not be indignant with the Church for 
denying to their leader the consolations which he had spent so 
many years in denouncing as frauds and impositions. But, 
on the contrary, they are inviting the civilised world to join 
them in bitter outcry against this latest instance of priestly 

In face of such strange inconsistency, it is worth while to 

^ Tolstoi^ '' Harmonj of the Gospels." 


devote a little time to studying the psychology of this strange 
band of enthusiasts by the light of the social and religious creed 
which they profess. 

The spread of earnestness among the half-educated classes 
has given rise, in these last generations, to a new public, full of 
noble but untutored aspirations, which wants the Millennium 
in cash down or it will know the reason why. These people 
ask for drastic measures ; and as they cannot get them from 
the professors they go to the prophets. When a prophet 
comes preaching that doctors know nothing of medicine, nor 
philosophers of metaphysics, that priests and politicians practise 
their crafts only for their own personal advantage, they receive 
him with enthusiasm — ^it is what they more than half suspected 
themselves — ^and they become Christian Scientists, Theosophists, 
Tolstoyites, and the like. In their jubilee of elation at making 
sure that doctors cannot avert death, that priests cannot ensure 
immortality, that statesmen have not solved "the social 
problem,'' and that philosophers are not definitively agreed 
upon the relations of mind and matter, they assume that 
because the men who have the gifts and the knowledge 
necessary for dealing with those difficult subjects have failed, 
therefore success must surely fall to those who are hampered 
with none of their gifts and none of their knowledge ; at once 
they yield their allegiance to the destructive critics whose 
revelations seem to have invested them with authority in all 
these matters by right of conquest. 

It seems a hard saying that this is the public in which 
Tolstoi has found his following, for Tolstoi is endowed with 
genius and piety — ^two attributes which are not necessary in 
appealing to that multitude. But so it is. There was no other 
public open to his teaching. He taught that doctors, lawyers, 
clergymen, statesmen, scientists, and philosophers were all 
blockheads or humbugs ; that the world must give up its civili- 
sation, knowledge, arts, crafts, creeds, food-stuffs, liquors, laws» 
armies, navies, and social order. This was too much for the 
educated men of the world : if for no other reason than that 


they were all doctors, lawyers, clergymen, soldiers, sailors, 
statesmen, scientists, landowners, licensed victuallers, or the 

There was a graver reason why Tolstoi's gospel should not 
thrive among the weU-informed : and that was, that in almost 
every particular it was at variance, not only with reason and 
experience, but also with itself ; and inconsistency, though the 
mark of an honest man, is out of place in philosophy. For 
honesty has its moods, but truth is always constant to itself. 

Inconsistency weighs for nothing with the enthusiasts. The 
faculty of believing contrary things at the same time, of believ- 
ing that which they cannot understand, or that which they 
know to be false, is the most characteristic feature of that 
large and growing class. Yet their opinion is by no means 
to be neglected; for they are the makers of reputations; 
they are the light-kindling stuff which sets the solider world 
on fire. 

In the matter of Tolstoi they have done a great wrong, 
putting the wrong Tolstoi into the museum of fame, and leav- 
ing the right Tolstoi out in the cold. I am not speaking of 
Tolstoi the novelist, who has a separate reputation of his own, 
founded on the opinion of judicious men ; I am speaking of the 
two Tolstois of later years : the right Tolstoi, who leads his 
kindly, weak, lovable life at Yasnaya Polyana, and the wrong 
Tolstoi, who writes the books and pamphlets decrying all the 
best that mankind has achieved. 

This duality has been a sore trial both to Tolstoi himself 
and to his disciples. The wrong Tolstoi has written a big book 
to show that he is really the same as the right Tolstoi : he has 
raised the contradiction of his Hyde and JekyU existence into a 
religious dogma, which we may conveniently call the Parallel- 
ogram of Moral Forces. His disciples lay it down as a canon 
of taste for his critics, that they must not make the incon- 
sistency of his words and his acts a reproach to either. 

The wrong Tolstoi writes pamphlets to show that a man 
should have no truck with property, wives or children, while 


the right Tolstoi lives with his family on a comfortable pro- 
perty in the Province of Tula. 

He wished to act in complete consistency with the view he had expressed 
[says Mr. Aylmer Maude, one of his apologists], but he could not do this — 
could not, for instance, give away all his property — without making his wife 
and some of his children angry, and without the risk of their even appealing 
to the authorities to restrain him. This perplexed him very much; but he 
felt that he could not do good by doing barm. No external rule, such as that 
people should give all they had to the poor, would justify him in creating 
anger and bitterness in the hearts of those nearest to him. So eventually he 
handed over the remains of his property to his wife and his family, and con- 
tinued to live in a good house with servants as before, meekly bearing the 
reproach that he was '' inconsistent," and contented himself with doing, in 
addition to his literary work, what manual labour he could, and living as simply 
and frugally as possible. 

That little difficulty of not being able to ** do good " with- 
out doing harm, of creating anger and bitterness in the hearts 
of those nearest to him, is one that is very likely to crop up 
when a man — especially a married man — tries to practise a 
scheme of life which involves poverty and celibacy. In fact, 
that difficulty always does crop up ; and there is a touch of 
personal feeling in the indignation of the Tolstoyites when the 
reproach of inconsistency is brought against their master : for 
though Tolstoi has thousands of disciples in every part of the 
world, I think I may safely say that not one of them has ever 
practised the Tolstoi scheme of life for twenty-four hours to- 
gether, any more than their teacher. And this feature is all 
the more curious and interesting in a religion of the militant 
sort, which declares all other religions mere " frauds," invented 
to justify the criminal lives of their adherents. 

There are, of course, difficulties in the way. It is a hard 
thing for a man, who scorns the protection of the law, to live 
on his own freehold estate — Tolstoyism presupposes a comfort- 
able freehold for each disciple — and feed himself, without 
exchange or barter, by the labour of his hands, while there are 
hungry Christians prowling about on every side. I have heard 
of only one community of true Tolstoyites, the inhabitants of 


the Nicobar Islands, and they have never heard of Tolstoi. 
There is an account of them in the Proceedings of the Anglo 
Russian Literary Society for the last quarter of 1900, borrowed 
from a Calcutta magazine, called Stray Feathers. The 
accoimt is headed " Tolstoi s Ideals realised in India." 

There are no persons whatsoever [says the account] possessing any 
authority among the Nicobarese. Entire absence of subordination is the one 
salient feature of their social polity. There are no headmen of villages . • . 
Husbands have no authority over their wives^ parents over their children; 
everybody . . . stands on an altogether independent footing. . . . No man 
has any need to work. They have everything they want at their doors. 
Cocoa-nut trees bearing ten times as much fruit as they can consume, the 
surplus of which when bartered yields them rum and tobacco, silver spoons, 
and black top-hats (luxuries they greatly affect), and any other clothes they 
may fancy. . . . There is absolutely no struggle for existence ; a child 
five or six years of age can provide for its own sustenance. . . . The idea 
of paying any tribute, or in fact of doing anything except follow his own 
devices without let or hindrance, so far as this in no way interferes with each 
or all of his neighbours doing the same, never enters the mind of a Nicobarese. 
They are not at all bad people on the whole ; very honest among themselves, 
good-natured, lazy creatures. . . . They don't care a straw about money, will 
always take a two- or four-anna piece in preference to a rupee, the former being 
used for earring beads, the latter being useless. 

That about the two- or four-anna pieces recalls Tolstoi 
singularly. ** As soon as the Fools," that is to say, the 
Tolstoyites, " had got their gold," says Tolstoi, " they gave it 
away to the women for necklaces ; aU the girls put it in their 
hair, and the children played with it in the streets."^ But 
the reader will see that the Nicobar islanders are not perfect 
Tolstoyites : the rum and tobacco and the black top-hats have 
no place in Tolstoyism. Even the Nicobarese are not angels ; 
we must not look for perfection. In all the rest, how true to 
Tolstoi^s teaching! They are not at aU bad people on the 
whole; very honest among themselves; entire absence of 
subordination is the salient feature of their social polity. It 
is not only that they have a courage in their convictions which 

1 " Ivan the FooL" 


Tolstoi and his disciples lack ; they also enjoy the only condi* 
tions in which Tolstoi's political economy can be realised. 
** There is absolutely no struggle for existence." " They have 
everything they want at their doors. Cocoanut-trees bearing 
ten times as much fruit as they can consume." Tolstoi himself 
demands no more. He is convinced that the poverty of the 
" working-classes " arises only from the fact that the rich draw 
away the poor from the land, which cries out to them to 
harvest the corn that burdens its bosom — ^a political economy 
which will not work anywhere in Europe except on that strip 
of South Russia which goes by the name of the Black Soil, and 
there only in favourable years. If the world were to go mad 
one day and accept Tolstoyism as a working theory of govern- 
ment, the population would have to be withdrawn from the 
greater part of England, France, Germany, Scandinavia and 
Russia, and settled on the Black Soil, the Nicobar Islands, and 
one or two other favoured spots, on freehold estates of about 
nine square yards each. When the crops failed in the Black 
Soil, as they do from time to time, we should have to fly 
to the Nicobar Islands for help. This would be hard on the 
Nicobarese, for Tolstoi forbids payment for goods received. 
However, the Nicobarese would not have so many mouths to 
feed as it might be supposed; for Tolstoi having abolished 
railways and steamships, only a few of the very longest stayers 
would survive the journey. 

" Slavery began with the land," says Tolstoi in one of his 
latest pamphlets,^ ''because the land was taken from the 
workers." It is a gross perversion of history, for the workers 
never had the shadow of a claim to the land. Since the days 
of Eden tribe has fought with tribe for the corn-land and the 
hunting-grounds. While the braves were tomahawking tres- 
passers, their squaws were scratching the cornfields with mat- 
tocks ; when the braves made prisoners, they set them hoeing 
with the squaws. But did that give the captives and the 
squaws an exclusive right to the soil and its produce ? 

1 *' The Way Out." 1900. 


If any of the squaws were so misguided as to regard the 
braves in the light of a ** parasite class," they were soon dis- 
abused of their mistake when the trespassers got the best of the 
tomahawking. Civilisation has not changed the case essentially. 
The European peasant holds the same position as the slave- 
captive of the savage warriors, and that too in most cases by 
right of descent The peasants would not be left to the peaceful 
pursuit of their toil for a moment if the lines of soldiery and 
warships that hedge them round to keep out the alien tres- 
passer were withdrawn. It is a fair division of labour that 
some should work and others watch. 

However, aU this is of small moment. The wisest of philo- 
sophers may be mistaken. But the wrong Tolstoi has claimed 
the authority of Jesus Christ for the philosophy which he 
teaches, an authority which convinces where mere reason fails. 
He could not have gained all these disciples without the name 
of the Gospel ; he could not have escaped criticism as he has 
if he had not taken refuge in these biblical entrenchments. It 
is only fair to see whether his biblical basis is sound, and to see 
whether, in patching up his edifice of philosophy into the 
semblance of consistency, he has been able to leave the evan- 
gelical substructure intact. 

The right Tolstoi believes in a God as Christians do. 

I was thinking [he says in a letter of September 1900] that it is impos- 
sible to say God is Love^ or God is Logos, Understanding. By Love and 
Understanding we know God ; but the ideas of God not only are not covered 
> by those ideas, they are as different from God as the ideas of eye or sight are 
different from light 

But the wrong Tolstoi, in the great scheme of philosophy 
which has so captivated the enthusiasts, makes God no more 
than this same bare Logos or Understanding ; while Gk>d, as 
mere God, is one of the ** frauds '' of the parasite classes. 

** The beginning of all things was Understanding (Logos), 
and Understanding was equivalent to God and replaced God, 
and Understanding (Logos) was God/' That is the wrong 


Tolstoi's translation of John L 1.^ " It appeared/' says Tolstoi's 
translation, ** in separate people (tX9c Aq ra tSm : John i. 2), and 
the separate people (ol iSiot) would not receive it into them." 
"He came unto his own [property], and his own [people] 
received him not " is the literal translation of the Greek. But 
Tolstoi, who taught himself Greek at the age of forty-one, is 
quite reckless of genders. " To ?&a," he says, " means that which 
is separate, individual, evidently used in opposition to the world 
in general. The light was in the whole world, and in separate 
people ; and therefore to the word f&oc, * separate ' . . . I add 
the word ' people ' " ; though the addition of masculine sub- 
stantives to neuter adjectives is a process wholly unknown to 
the humdrum grammarians of our schools and universities. 

Now this discrepancy between the views of the right Tolstoi 
and the wrong Tolstoi is something more than matter for a 
Trissotin and Vadius dispute : it is a matter which goes to the 
very root of Tolstoyism. 

The real Tolstoi, the kindly old man of Yasnaya Polyana, 
knows that we are imperfect creatures, kindly for the most 
part like himself, working out the problems of social life as best 
we may, guided by an overshadowing Providence from which 
we hope for some ultimate reward in a simpler and easier 

I am more and more convinced [he says in a letter of October 1900^] of 
the unreality of this world in which we live. Not that it is a dream^ but that 
it is only one of the countless manifestations of life. . . . One must feel, like 
Emerson, " I can get along without it." 

But the philosophy of the wrong Tolstoi rejects the con- 
solations of another life. For the wrong Tolstoi the world is 
not overshadowed by a kindly Providence, but by a malevolent 
Destiny, in alliance with the parasite classes. Life is a struggle 
between Evil and Reason. God is not the ruler of the universe, 

^ Tolstoi, ^^ Harmony of the Gospels," vol. i. pp. 19 and 23 in the Russian 

* Many of his letters are published by Chertkov in his Ldsiki Svobodnago 


but mere Common Sense, the weak helpmate of man against 
the mastery of Evil. It is a kind of dreary Buddhism, leavened 
with Emerson. The future life is another invention of the 
parasites, a mere sop to the working classes, on a par with Old 
Age Pensions. 

The wrong Tolstoi, bound to the Gospel for authority, 
avoids the promise of a future life by tactics of the strangest 

In St Matthew xix. 28, Jesus says : " Ye who have followed 
me, in the regeneration, when the Son of Man shall sit in the 
throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judg- 
ing the twelve tribes of Israel." " This verse I omit," says 
Tolstoi,^ " as not having any definite meaning. ... It either 
means nothing, or it is raillery, irony." 

In Mark x. 80, Jesus says : ** He shall receive a hundredfold 
now in this time . . . and in the world to come {iv r^ aiwi ri$ 
'pxofiiv^) eternal life." "TEpxoi««« means *to go,' *to pass,'" 
says Tolstoi 2 — quite untruly, of course — and iv rt} alww rt$ 
ipxojiiivio therefore means ** in the ceon now passing," that is, in 
this life, in spite of the absurdity of '' eternal life " in an aeon 
which is passing. 

It would be unprofitable work to go through the Harmony 
and Commentary of the Gospels verse by verse. Those who 
are curious in such matters may easily estimate Tolstoi's quali- 
fications as a commentator for themselves by referring to the 
work. Let them see, for instance, his translation of John i. 14,^ 
his commentary on Luke ii. 49,^ or his ludicrous note on airo- 

The system once made, good or bad, it behoved Tolstoi to 
live by it, if he believed in it. He had declared governments, 
law and property bad, and it was his duty to eschew the 
advantages of them. Incidentally he had rejected also tobacco, 
alcohol and meat. But life was hard with him. His brother- 
in-law says that, so far from being happy when he had evolved 

^ *' Harmony/' voL ii. p. 225. « Ibid. vol. ii. p. 824. 

s Ibid. vol. i. p. SS. ' Ibid. vol. i. p. 47. ' Ibid, vol. iL p. 24S. 


this scheme for the only possible happiness, he became 
depressed in his spirits. His wife and children had no idea of 
giving up !the property at Yasnaya Polyana and working in 
the fields for their daily bread. Then, again, he was troubled 
by visitors. D^roulMe came and tried to Enlist his sympathies 
on behalf of the Revanche ; romantic ladies came — a sort that 
he could not abide — and wanted to ''learn life"; practical 
ladies came and threatened to blow out their brains if they 
could not have a thousand roubles on the spot The wrong 
Tolstoi says that if people ask for money it is not charitable, 
but only polite to give it to them ; he also says that if people 
steal things it is because they need them, and therefore have a 
right to them ; but history relates that when these ladies came 
the right Tolstoi lost his temper and the Countess sent them 
away. Then Tolstoi made a pair of boots — which is apparently 
a good thing to do — and was disgusted when he found that 
one of his admirei*s kept them at home in a glass case. The 
Government was very kind and forbearing to him ; but business 
is business, and Tolstoi was summoned as a witness in a law- 
case to the local court. Fraulein Seuron, who was governess 
at Yasnaya Polyana, avers that Tolstoi appeared in his sheep- 
skin, laid a roU of roubles on the table, said, ''You cannot 
force me to swear; there is my fine for non-appearance," 
and fled. 

The same lady says that it was pitiful to see the poor 
prophet trying to give up his tobacco. 

He walked from room to room as if be could find no place for himself. He 
would sometimes begin a cigarette and throw it away again at once, or greedily 
inhale the fumes when other people were smoking. In the end he could not 
altogether break off this habit ... it soothed his nerves. People are mistaken 
in thinking the Count an ascetic in the strict sense of the word. 

Then, again, the wrong Tolstoi says that literature is a vice : but 
the right Tolstoi has the cacoethes scribendi in him and cannot 
keep away from the writing-table. One of Repines drawings 
shows him in a modest attic of the great country house, with 
his scjrthes and rakes about him, sitting uncomfortably at work 


on a little stool in his sheepskin, with an incongruous pair of 
silver candlesticks before him. In the afternoon he wanders 
about, says Fraulein Seuron, with a hatchet in the woods. 
There is something charmingly ingenuous in the picture she 
gives of Tolstoi, the amateur Tolstoyite, coming back from the 
fields with a conscious smile of achievement and the smell of 
manure about him : '' I roared with laughter,** she says. Then, 
in spite of his convictions, he has his bicycle for exercise, and 
even joins the young people in the despised and immoral game 
of lawn-tennis. 

Altogether it is a delightfully human picture, that of 
Tolstoi, the Squire of Yasnaya Polyana, living in the great 
house with his Countess, in his sheepskin-overcoat, playing at 
being a Tolstoyite. 

But the wrong Tolstoi, the man who writes the books, 
seems altogether to have missed the charm of the right Tolstoi's 
whimsicality and weakness, which have in them something of 
the appeal of a child's helplessness. In '' The Kingdom of God 
is within You "" he puts forward that curious theorem, the 
'* Parallelogram of Moral Forces," to show that the making 
and breaking of impracticable rules of life is the very essence 
of philosophic Christianity. 

Those who call my STstem impracticable [says Tolstoi] are quite right if 
we regard the counsels of perfection afforded by the doctrine of Christ as rules 
which must be fulfilled by each of us, just as in the code of society the rules of 
paying taxes, &c., must be fulfilled by each. . . . The perfection held up before 
the eyes of Christians is infinite and can never be attained, and Christ has this 
in view : but he knows that the striving upwards to full and infinite perfection 
will alwajTS increase the happiness of man. . . . Christ is not teaching angels, 
but men who live an animal life ; and to the animal force of motion Christ, as 
it were, applies another force, namely, the consciousness of divine perfection, 
and so direds the movement of humamty along the resultant of the two forces.^ . . . 
The animal force remains always the same and lies beyond the control of man. 
. . . Divine perfection is the asymptote of human life, to which it is always 
approximating, but which it can attain only in infinity. 

The doctrine is easy enough to apply to the individual life. 

» " Kingdom of God," i. 139. 


To renounce property and family and Uve with one's wife and 
children in a comfortable coimtry house is the part of a con- 
sistent philosophic Christian. To forswear tobacco and smoke 
cigarettes is not a sign of weakness, but mere obedience to 
Parallelogram Christianity. 

But the doctrine seems hard to apply to public life. What 
resultant will the Parallelogram give us in the matter of 
fighting ? Shall we forswear war and settle our quarrels with 
pitchforks ? Or what compromise will the Parallelogram make 
between the abolition of law-courts and our depraved inclina- 
tion for justice ? Is Lynch-law the resultant ? 

There was one great difficulty which puz2led many until 
the Parallelogram explained it. If aU men abstained from the 
making of children, as Tolstoi directed, what would become of 
the human race ? 

The apparent contradiction of Tolstoi — ^it is only apparent 
— may be clearly seen if we set side by side two passages m 
which he lays down the duty of women. In the epilogue to 
the " Kreutzer Sonata " they are clearly condenmed to perpetual 

The Christian cannot look upon carnal connection otherwise than as * 
sin^ as is said in Matt. v. 25 . . . and he will therefore always avoid mtfriage. 

The other passage is to be found in " What must we do ? " 

As it is said in the Bible^ to man and to woman^ to each is given a la^' 
to man the law of labour, to woman the law of childbearing. . . . Each h^ ^ 
unchangeable . . . and disobedience is punished inevitably with death. • 
If you are true mothers, you will not say after two children, nor after twenty 
children, that you have brought forth children enough. . . . You will not nu»« 
over the care of suckling them and nursing them to another mother . • 
you regard that labour as your life, and therefore the more you have of tnt 
labour the fuller and happier will your life be. 

Tolstoi means us, of course, to trust to the Parallelogr8i» o 
Forces for the continuation of the species. 

Tolstoi's doctrines fill many books and pamphlets : it is ^^ 
therefore to be expected that all his inconsistencies shoula 

1 EpUogue, p. 15. « '' Works," 1891, vol. xiii. pp. 2S4, iS9, ^- 


touched upon within the limits of a single article. But though 
I cannot here set forth the whole bulk of the contradictions 
which his disciples have swallowed, these specimens may serve 
to illustrate the quality of their digestion ; and the reader may 
be able the better to appreciate the mental condition of those 
who, at one and the same time, declare the doctrines of the 
Church an impious fraud, and complain of the cruelty of the 
Holy Synod in dissociating Tolstoi from any participation in 

Tolstoi is a hesitating prophet, who never rests in any 
affirmation or negation, but says : ** This is true ... at least, 
it may be true . . . but no, on the whole I am sure that it is 
untrue." While his disciples take down his words and proclaim 
as their creed : ** We are sure that this is true, that it may be 
true, and that on the whole it is not true." 

Tolstoi is not a Tolstojrite : he is an amiable character who 
has somehow strayed out into real life from the pages of 
** Tristram Shandy " or " The Caxtons." And perhaps we who 
are also not Tolstoyites may consistently be sorry that the Church 
of his native country — ^which, no doubt, he loves in his heart of 
hearts — ^should have declared war on him. For, separated from 
his ** system " — and the separation is easy — ^he is not more un- 
orthodox than thousands in and out of his own country who 
live and die at peace with their Established Churches, to the 
comfort of their friends and relatives. 

6. L. Calderon. 


TO enter upon a season comprising one hundred and sixty- 
six fixtures with the prospect of finishing 58 per cent of 
the games begun, as in 1900, is scarcely conducive to intensify- 
ing or even holding the public interest in the greatest of summer 
pastimes, which interest is chiefly centred upon the aforemen- 
tioned one hundred and sixty-six inter-county meetings. Cricket 
is not the only pastime in which one is obliged to recognise that 
h&te noir of the sportsman, the drawn game ; even a football 
season wLU disclose the fact that 20 per cent of the fixtures end 
in drawn games, but the great difference which exists between 
the perfect equality of the opponents in the football draw and 
the sometimes very exasperating inequality of the players, or 
rather of their respective scores, in a drawn game of cricket, 
renders any comparison between the two impossible. As far as 
football is concerned the drawn game is bearable, with regard 
to cricket it is — ^well, highly undesirable. 

If we compare the number of drawn games in the county 
championship matches, which in the aggregate amount to nearly 
48 per cent of the matches entered upon, with the drawn 
games played in inter-coimty fixtures twenty-two years ago, 
we find that there are practically twice as many drawn games 
played to-day as there were then, when out of fifty county 
matches begun only eleven remained unfinished. 

Into the respective merits of the bowlers and batsmen of 
to-day and yesterday we do not intend to enter here ; there are 


some uncommonly good bowlers to-day, and there were some 
uncommonly good bats at the end of the seventies — of the 
quality of the bowling at the end of the seventies and the bat- 
ting at the end of the century there is no question : we also 
prefer to leave to others the question respecting the desirability 
of encouraging groundsmen to subject theii' wickets to a species 
of enamelling process — an undoubted source of high scoring 
and consequently of drawn games ; and the Clerk of the 
Weather will not here be taken to task because he has of late 
years been good enough to provide us with better cricketing 
weather than we are altogether accustomed to : fine, dry 
weather and enamelled wickets are tmdoubtedly conducive to 
drawn games, but bad fielding and deplorable catching have 
much more to answer for, and it is with them that we shall 

** I admit,'* said recently one of the finest cricketers that 
ever stepped into the 'field, a man of vast experience in the 
cricket of both to-day and yesterday, Mr. A. N. Hornby, ** that 
the large number of drawn matches played now is a bad feature 
of the game, but that is not the fault of the rules. It is simply 
due to shocking bad fielding. The fielders should hold catches, 
and then there would be more finished games. For instance, 
take Noble's innings in the test match at Old Trafibrd last year 
(1899). He was missed before scoring, and then stayed in for 
two days. The fielding is not so good as it used to be, and it 
is this alone that is responsible for drawn games.'' 

The President of the Lancashire Coimty Club, had he so 
desired, instead of referring to an incident of the season of 1899, 
could have found illustrations in plenty in last season's play ; 
he might have quoted the expensive mistake that resulted in 
Ranjitsinhji's adding 122 runs to his total against Kent at the 
end of last August : he might have recalled the seven chances 
missed in the course of Surrey's first innings against Middlesex 
at Lord's, whereby five batsmen, who might have been out 
for 88 runs, scored between them no fewer than 244 — ^as 
Surrey lost, notwithstanding the generosity of their opponents. 

No. 8. III. 2.— May 1901 k 


perhaps this illustration would hardly have been apposite ; he 
might, however, have mentioned the dropped catch given by 
Brown in the course of his famous innings of 168, the highest 
ever hit for Players against Gentlemen at Lord's, a mistake 
that probably lost the match to the Gentlemen; and, as a 
curiosity, he might have alluded to the extraordinary fortune 
attending Mr. T. H. Page when playing for Hants against 
Essex in July, this gentleman being missed no less than four 
times in rapid succession ! 

That bad fielding is solely and wholly the cause of drawn 
games we should not like to say, but it is an undoubted fact 
that it is the principal agent in their production, for slackness 
in the field is provocative of a rapidly rising score, and hea\'y 
scoring is in four cases out of five the apparent origin of the 
drawn game ; as for missed opportunities in the way of catches, 
every chance lost is equivalent to giving the batting side an 
extra batsman and one who enters upon his innings with his 
eye in ; no wonder that drawn games are so frequent when it 
is not tmusual to find that practically from fifteen to seventeen 
individual innings have been played ere a complete side has 
been dismissed for the first time. 

The British public, reading its morning paper, observes that 
Abel was missed with his score at 0, and was at fault on more 
than one occasion, and promptly forgets the incident ; if missed 
opportunities of getting rid of an opponent were entered in the 
score — ^although to read that Abel was ** m.c. (missed from a 
catch) by Jones 0, m. run out (missed run out) Brown, 42, 
m.c. Robinson, 76, Jones 152, not out 215," might create 
confusion — ^the public would eventually realise the vast number 
of mistakes that are made in first-class cricket each day of the 
season and would in time, perhaps, regard good fielding as 
just as important a factor in the game as good batting and good 
bowling, a consummation devoutly to be wished. 

To discover the exact number of catches missed in first-class 
cricket in the course of a season would necessitate enlisting the 
services of an up-to-date Argus whose many eyes would also 



have to be fitted with the latest improvements in teiephoto 
lenses ; in the absence of this friendly help, for the purpose of 
this article, we collated one month's (August) cricket reports in 
an absolutely unbiased contemporary, with the result (keeping 
in mind the fact that a good proportion of the chances given, 
even when observed from the Press-box, are not alluded to in 
print) that we were anything but reassured as to the fielding 
displayed by our best elevens. In the following table we show 
how the 166 catches missed in August, which we succeeded in 
tracing, were distributed among the fifteen first-class counties ; 
we also give the number of wickets taken by each team during 
that month, whilst in the third column, in order to reduce all 
the teams to the same common denominator, we append the 
percentages of chances missed to wickets captured : 


1. Warwick 
t. Derby . 

3. Gloucester 

4. Sussex . 

5. Notts . 

6. Somerset 

7. Worcester 

8. Middlesex 
9 Essex . 

10. Hants . 

11. Kent . 

12. Surrey . 

13. Lancashire 

14. Leicestershire 

15. Yorkshire 
















Percentage of 

Cbancee Missed 

















Warwick owes her position at the head of the list to an 
epidemic that, as Tom Emmett would say, was " certainly not 
* catching.'" It broke out with exceeding virulence in the 
match against Worcester, when not only was Bowley missed 
in the slips, but Arnold, who was thrice missed at the same 


figure and twice later on, gave five unaccepted chances in an 
innings of 118, an exhibition of fielding that was only redeemed 
by the exceedingly brilliant running catch with which Walter 
Quaife dismissed Wilson. Later in the month Mr. Percy 
Perrin enjoyed, at the expense of Warwick, some of that 
remarkable luck that pursued him through August Derby^s 
worst fielding debacle took place in their match with Notts, 
which they undoubtedly lost through their bad fielding. 
Gk)odacre, who was twice missed, scored 67 ; Carlin was missed 
once, and scored 68; J. Gunn, missed at 0, scored 54; and 
Iremonger, missed at 81, scored 65. Although Mr. F. 
Townsend brilliantly caught J. T. Hearne in the Middlesex 
match, the Gloucestershire fielding was frequently at fault; 
and in the Surrey match Hayes, Abel, Mr. Crawford, and 
Stedman had an extra innings each, whilst Lees was presented 
with a couple. When Mr. Bromley Davenport scored 69 for 
Worcester, he was missed at 80, 86 and 56. Mr. Blaker was 
missed thrice in scoring 57 not out for Kent ; and Mr. Perrin, 
when he ran up 184 not out — Oh 1 the irony of these " not 
outs " — for Essex, enjoyed a fair slice of fortune, for he was 
missed by four difierent men at 89, 56, 118 and 129 respec- 
tively 1 Although Mr. Fry and Relf made some more than 
ordinarily good catches in the Gloucestershire match, and 
K. S. Ranjitsinhji dismissed TunniclifFe on one occasion, and 
Barton on another, with catches adjudged by eye-witnesses to 
be above the average even for him, the Sussex eleven, except- 
ing Tate, in the match v. Yorkshire, were frequently at fault. 
Mr. C. E. de Trafford, before he scored his 62 runs for 
Leicester (in eighteen hits), was missed in the slips at 8, and 
eventually gave four unaccepted chances in his brief but lively 
innings. Lord Hawke, in scoring 26, was missed thrice. Mr. 
Lowe, in scoring 74 for Worcester, enjoyed three innings ; 
and Sussex practically lost all chance of scoring a win 
over Hants by missing Barton at 1 and 80 in his first 
innings, which augmented the score of his side by 51, and 
in his second at 19 (he only scored 22 however), and by 


letting off Webb at 15, whereupon he increased his score 
to 70. 

The chief mistake made by Notts last August consisted in 
letting off Mr. P. F. Warner at 72, whereupon he scored 184, 
and in not holding catches given by Mr. W. P. Robertson, 
who augmented the score against them by 62. At a later date 
they also had the misfortune to miss the opportunity of dis- 
missing Mr. McLaren at 28, whereupon he scored 77. On the 
other hand, it must not be overlooked that Mr. Oscroft superbly 
caught Mr. Marriot in the Leicester match, and that the catch 
with which Mr. G. J. Groves dismissed Tyldesley must, not- 
withstanding the fact that it was the cause of the downfall of a 
great Lancashire batsman, have been the source of much 
pleasure to Mr. A. N. Hornby. 

To comment upon all the missed opportunities afforded in 
the month of August would entail the printing of a Supple- 
ment, but it may be mentioned that when Hayes scored 
175 against Hants, and Mr. Mason 187 against the same 
county, the former was missed three times and the latter 
twice; that Kent probably lost an opportunity of beating 
Lancashire through missing Mr. Hartley in the first innings at 
11 and 88, and that they had to pay 122 runs (net ; if we take 
into consideration the number of runs accruing to his various 
partners the gross score would probably be much higher) for 
the luxury of missing K. S. Ranjitsinhji ; that Lancashire 
paid dearly for missing Mr. Jephson at 28, that gentleman 
eventually scoring 188; that Middlesex fielded execrably 
against Yorkshire and, as we have already pointed out, against 
Surrey, though in the former match Mr. J. Douglas greatly 
distinguished himself by a magnificent running catch which 
dismissed Rhodes. If the chance given by Mr. Dixon at 21, 
when he compiled his not-out score of 126 against Leicester, 
had been accepted, there is every probability that the Notts 
score would have been reduced to one-half the proportions it 
attained, in which case at the end of an innings apiece both 
counties would have found themselves very evenly matched ; 



whilst Surrey, in her return match with Middlesex, would have 
pressed the home county much harder than she did had Mr. 
Wells, who scored 62, returned to the Pavilion caught in the 
slips at 24, and had not Mr. Warner, who amassed a century, 
enjoyed a respite at 47. The wonderful fielding displayed by 
Holland in the Lancashire match and by Hayes and Clode in the 
match with Notts, went far to redeeming the mistakes made by 
Surrey during August, but these mistakes cost her dear in some 
cases, especially when Mr. Palairet, in the match which Somerset 
won by 26 runs, was missed at 7 and eventually totalled 88. 

To the best of our ability we show in the following table the 
net cost of the various mistakes we have traced in coimty 
matches during August, and also the names of those counties 
which benefited by the mistakes of their opponents and the 
extent to which they benefited : it is, of course, impossible to 
account for every run thrown away, but the aggregate of 
4258 given through missed catches may be accepted as the 
minimum, for we have taken into consideration neither the 
runs accruing to the respited players' partners — ^runs that would 
not have been obtained had he not kept up the opposite wicket 
— ^nor additional extras also accruing from the innings being 
lengthened : 

Runs giren to Opponent! 
County. ^y j^.^.^^ Catches. 

Runs received from 




Kent . 






Derby . 






Notts . 






Hants .... 



Sussex .... 



Essex . 



Surrey .... 












Yorkshire . 






The huge bonus of runs given to Surrey batsmen owes its 
magnitude chiefly to the fact that Hayes, who scored 515 runs 
during the month, was actually presented with 224, or over 
40 per cent, by his opponents ; Abel, Hayward and Mr. Jephson 
also benefited by the mistakes of their opponents to the 
amount of considerably over 100 runs apiece, one mistake 
enriching the captain's aggregate by 115 runs and another 
Abel's aggregate by 111. The Yorkshireman most favoured 
by his opponents was Mr. Taylor, whose aggregate for the 
month, 412 runs, would have been reduced by 48 per cent had 
all the catches he gave been accepted ; in a more modest way 
the popular captain of the Yorkshire eleven was also the re- 
cipient of several extra innings augmenting his aggregate for 
the month, which totalled 278 runs, to the extent of 88. To 
Mr. Perrin's good fortune in August we have already alluded ; 
it only remains for us to add that, if his opponents had taken 
advantage of aU the opportunities afforded them, instead of his 
aggregate for the nine completed innings played by him in that 
month, amounting to 852 runs, his total would not have 
exceeded the second century by more than a couple of runs. 
Other recipients of over 100 runs during the month under 
analysis were Barton (Hants), Mr. J. A. Dixon (Notts), Mr. 
C. J. B. Wood (Leicester), W. Quaife (Warwick), Mr. J. 
Douglas and Mr. P. F. Warner (Middlesex), Mr. Mason 
(Kent), K. S. Ranjitsinhji (Sussex) and Mr. L. Palairet 

If in the course of twenty-seven days county cricket over 
4000 runs are, together with the time they take to compile, 
wasted, we may infer that m the course of the whole county 
season, in which a grand total ot 128,018 runs were scored last 
year, some 18,000 unnecessary runs are given away through 
bad catching. If this is the net result ot missing catches, what 
must be the aggregate cost, taking into consideration the runs 
accruing through the lengthened partnerships and through 
slovenly fielding — surely sufficient if they could be eliminated, 
or nearly eliminated, for accidents will happen, by smartness 


in the field — ^to greatly reduce the present proportion of over 
40 per cent, of games drawn ? 

The result of the meeting of the county captains has been 
to discountenance any project of altering the law of Lb.w. in 
favour of the bowler and to initiate a crusade against doubtful 
bowling; the prospect the approaching season holds forth as 
regards drawn games is therefore very promising, and great 
scores will thrive more than ever unless there is a revival of the 
good fielding that was current in the days of the Walkers, Parr, 
and many other captains of the past, who kept up their teanos 
to so high a standard of fielding that to miss a chance was 
regarded by the offender in much the same light as if he had 
committed a crime. This standard, we are afraid, is hardly 
likely to be again attained as long as so much first-class cricket 
takes place under present conditions. If it is absolutely neces- 
sary to play day after day, day after day, county committees 
should pay more attention to the fielding form displayed by 
the members of the eleven ; at present, if a batsman plays a 
succession of single-figure innings, the chances are that he loses 
nis place in the eleven ; if, on the other hand, his fielding, say at 
mid-on, results in his opponents amassing many runs through 
his slovenliness in the field and through dropped catches on his 
part, not the slightest notice is taken of the fact, so far as 
leaving him out of the eleven is concerned, as long as his batting 
average is on the right side of thirty, though in many cases a 
net gain would accrue to the team if the batsman were left 
out in favour of a safe field and less brilliant performance with 
the willow. It was very noticeable during the course of last 
summer how those wicket-keepers who had been temporarily 
incapacitated, when they at length resumed their positions 
behind the stumps, displayed more than ordinarily brilliant form 
as the result of their enforced idleness ; if, instead of waiting 
until they were prevented by accident or illness from playing, 
the selection committees of our county clubs were to rest their 
fieldsmen at the first sign of staleness in the field, we feel sure 
that the gain in having smart fielding and safe catching would 


more than compensate for the temporary absence of even a 
really great batsman. 

Failing a great improvement in fielding, and especially in 
catching, or some extraordinary weather that will have the 
effect of destroying the plumbness of the prepared wicket and 
yet allow sufficient time to play matches out, we do not see 
what is to save us from an increase in the percentage of drawn 
games during the ensuing season, and fix)m the customary 
columns of suggestions showing how the game could be im- 
proved by playing it in slabs, the sides taking it in turn to 
occupy the wickets for periods varying from ten minutes to two 
hours, or from those extremely original notions for the elimina- 
tion of the drawn game, namely, the plan of adding an inch to 
the height of the wicket or introducing an extra stump. If 
the art of catching has really fallen into desuetude and the 
missing of catches is not occasioned, as we believe it is, by 
staleness brought about by too much cricket, and by want of 
fielding practice, we would suggest that the situation would be 
most easily met by altering the wording of Law 22 so that it 
read : '' Or, if the ball, from a stroke of the bat or hand, but 
not of the wrist, oughts in the opinion of the Umpire^ to have 
been held before it toitched the ground — * caught' " We are 
certainly not ripe for such a drastic alteration in the laws at 

present, but 

Habold Macfarlane. 



A CENTURY has passed away since Cowper died, and the 
centenary year has brought a revival of interest in both 
himself and his work. Very little fresh material concerning 
him has come to light, and the poet's letters still remain his 
best biography — ^those delightful letters in which he engages 
our sympathy and affection not only for himself, but also for 
the correspondents, who by their faithful service and unswerving 
devotion did all that was humanly possible to enlighten the 
heavy burden of his later years. Among these the two cousins, 
Lady Hesketh and the Rev. John Johnson, commonly called 
" Johnny of Norfolk," played a leading part It will be remem- 
bered that during the three years that Cowper was articled to 
a London solicitor, he spent much of his leisure at the house of 
his uncle, Mr. Ashley Cowper, and became a great favourite 
with his cousins Harriet and Theodora. With Theodora he 
fell in love, but an engagement was forbidden on account of 
the near relationship of the pair. Harriet, however, kept 
up a correspondence with her sisters lover until the 
change in his religious opinions temporarily alienated her 
sympathies frx>m him, and the friendship was suspended for 
a period of twenty years. Meanwhile Harriet had become the 
wife of Sir Thomas Hesketh, and spent the greater part of 
her married life abroad. After her husband's death in 1778, 


she returned to England, and settled down at Bath, where she 
became a familiar figure in the social life of the period. 

Her cousin, WiUiam Cowper, was now famous, and after 
reading his ** John Gilpin," published in 1785, Lady Hesketh 
felt a strong desire to renew the old ties of affection that had 
once existed between them. A letter from her called forth 
a warm response from the poet, and thenceforward until his 
death in 1800, a regular correspondence w&s kept up between 
them. When her own infirmities and his unhappy state pre- 
vented her from visiting him, she wrote every week to " Johnny 
of Norfolk," then curate of East Dereham, who took charge of 
his cousin during these later years, and tended him with a 
filial devotion. A number of letters addressed by Lady 
Hesketh to Mr. Johnson have recently come to light, and 
though they add nothing to Cowper s fame, yet they contain 
many little intimate touches which will not be without interest 
to lovers of the poet, as well as several curious allusions to the 
life and manners of the period. Lady Hesketh is revealed in 
these letters as a kind-hearted but somewhat fussy old lady, 
inordinately proud of her relationship to Cowper, reigning like 
a little queen at Bath, and made much of by everybody 
wherever she went, from the Royal Family downwards. 

In 1794, Mrs. Unwin had become so enfeebled, both mentally 
and physically, through a paralytic stroke, that her companion- 
ship once all-sufficing, only aggravated the poet's melancholy. 
Lady Hesketh's knowledge of this fact, and perhaps some 
touch of natural jealousy, led her to write of the poor 
lady with an asperity, not to say spiteftilness, which was 
hardly worthy of so innately kind-hearted a woman. In the 
summer of 1794 she is staying at Weston, and sends the 
following curious communication from thence to " Johnny of 
Norfolk," on tlie subject of an old tea-pot of Mrs. Unwin s, 
which he had apparently received permission to exchange for a 
new one : 

Rare indeed, my good Sir John, and valuable as me I Why what a costly 
pacquet did you send us last night I . . . I bava the satisfaction to inform 


you that it arrived very safely^ and we were all delighted to see the rare and 
beauteous Phcenix which seemed to have arisen so miraculously from the ashes 
of the old one. When I had developed the pacquet I called out^ *' Oh^ what a 
beautiful tea-pot ! Well^ Johnny has indeed done the thing handsomely ! I 
think I never in my life saw a handsomer or more elegant thing of its kind.*' 
Mrs. Unwin instantly roared out, ** Is it solid silver ? Are you sure it is real 
solid silver ? Mine was silver." — '' Indeed, madam, I do not know ; plated 
things look sometimes very handsome, and 'tis so large, one might almost 
suppose it was not, only Johnny is the last man in the world to take a silver 
tea-pot, and return a plated, unless you had ordered him to do so." Our dear 
cousin then said, " No, no, it is silver very plainly ; besides here is the hall- 
mark," to which she with a grvnty " Oh you're sure 'tis silver, very well" I 
then proceeded in my admirations and explanations of this dear, delightful 
tea-pot, and spoke with great admiration of the manner in which the arms were 
engraved — ^how well they were executed — " and here," says I, " is your crest, 
my cousin, on the other side." She immediately called out with great voci- 
feration, " What is the crest ? " — " Oh," says I, " the bear's paw and cherry- 
branch." She then screamed louder, " Oh, that's not right, that's not right." 
— " Yes, yes," said our cousin, " it is quite right ; " to which she rejoined, " No, 
that is not the Unwin crest — the other tea-pot was mine." — ''Oh," says I, 
our friend Johnny never thought of that I daresay," and Mr. Cowper added, 
Pho, pho, what does that signify between you and me ? " She hemmed and 
grunted again, and at last said, '' Well, I'm very glad Mr. Johnson has sent it 
to you, my man, veiy glad." And as she repeated this at different intervals 
thro' the whole evening, I gathered that she was not glad at all. 

This little scene certainly does not present Lady Hesketh 
in a very engaging Ught, but it is obvious throughout the 
correspondence that she was inclined to grudge the rest of the 
world any share in her beloved cousin's affections, the same 
feeling being expressed, though in a milder form, in the 
following letter to Mr. Johnson, written in the winter of 

How much I love and honour your enthusiastic seal in the service of your 
friends, my good Sir John Croydon [one of Johnny's nicknames], let this quick 
return to your letter of yesterday assure you. Nothing delights me more than 
to see people active in the cause they have undertaken — ^that passive spirit 
ivhich is often honoured by the name of good nature, but which is contented 
with sending good wishes to those they love from a comfortable sofa, or an easy 
chair, is not the sort of goodness which suits my taste. I like the impetuosity 
of your spirit which inclines you to do and think of everything by which yoa 


may essentially serve those you profess to love and esteem. Judge then how 
much and more particularly it pleases me to see that happy talent of yours 
exerted in every possible way in favour of our good and valuable cousin, whom 
(par parenthese) I love as much better than you, as I have known him longer, 
as well at least as any sister can love a brother, your sister Kate not excepted. 
This being the case, cousin Johnny, as it certainly is, let me proceed to tell you 
how much both I myself, and Mrs. Unwin, and this dear cousin of ours, approve 
and admire all the good you have already done us, and all that you design to 
do in our service. ... I know that by this time you hate me cordially for 
asserting that my affection to the Translator of Homer is stronger than yours, 
and you wiU ask me, perhaps, whether it requires half a century to create a 
sincere friendship and esteem for a deserving object, and to this I answer, 
" No — ^not exactiy that, yet you must allow, cousin Johnny, that the Tree which 
has taken the firmest root is the least liable to accidents or injury, and when 
you have allowed me this, I will honestiy own to you that it is in the term of 
its duration only that I believe my attachment to excel yours, so allow me the 
melancholy privilege that age gives me, and let us part friends. Oh, but we 
must not part yet. I have several things yet to say ; one is about the Mr. 
Cowper and the Miss Madan whom yoiur friend Mr. Reeves saw at Evesham 
House. They are both cousins of mine, and Mr. Cowper's Miss Madan is the 
daughter of the late Mr. Madan, of Epsom, the clergyman who has written so 
well and so abominably,^ but no more of him. The Mr. Cowper who was there 
is the eldest son of the late Major Cowper, of the Park House, in Staffordshire, 
and is nephew to General Cowper. Take notice, I should have spared myself 
and you this account, but I love to treat people with their favourite dish when 
I can, and considering you in the light of Rouge Dragon, or Norroy King-at- 
Arms, I give you this faint shadow of a ghost of a pedigree, which may prove 
perhaps, as a little dainty, or kickshaw^ to stay your stomach, till something 
more satisfactory falls in your way." 

Mr. Johnson at this time was putting together Cowper s 
pedigree, hence the allusions to his heraldic tendency. Later 
on Lady Hesketh furnished him with some further information 
on this subject, which begins in quaint fashion : 

A Tale for the benefit of Superannuated Heralds, Humbly Inscribed to 
'' Johnny of Norfolk," once the formidable Rival of Rouge Dragon, Norroy King- 
at- Arms, and even of the Norfolk Herald ! but now alas! — Sir William Cowper, 
Bart., of the Mote in Kent, and of Hertford Castie, in the County of Herts, 
had two sons — William, Lord High Chancellor of England; and Spencer, 
Lord Chief Justice of Chester, and ditto of the Common Pleas. The above- 

^ The author of ** Thelyphthora," a treatise in £ivour of polygamy. 


mentioned Speneer married in due time a £iir and virtuous damsel named Judith 
[daughter of Sir Robert Booth], a woman beloved and esteemed by her own 
and her husband's &mily« and justly considered as the paragon of her day, for 
every grace and accomplishment, and every domestic and social virtue. Above 
all, she stood unrivalled in the sweetness and gentleness of her disposition, of 
which I have heard many of her descendants, and indeed all who knew her, 
speak with delight and amazement To the above-mentioned Spencer Cowper 
this peerless lady bore four children — ^vis., three sons and one daughter, the 
latter the counterpart of herself in all her virtues and graces, but excelling her 
in respect of genius, which early showed itself in an elegant taste for poetry, 
many proofii of which are now extant, though she never would allow of their 
being printed. The three sons which the above-mentioned admirable and 
virtuous lady bore to Spencer Cowper, were named William, John and Ashley. 
The eldest, William, possessed an estate in Hertfordshire near Cole Green, the 
seat of Earl Cowper. John, the second, went into the Church, and was for a 
long series of years Rector of Berkhampstead. He was the father of the poet. 
Ashley, the youngest brother, was intended for the law, but quitted the pro- 
fession, and became Clerk to the Parliaments after the decease of his eldest 
brother who enjoyed it during his life, it having been a grant from the Crown 
to his father. Ashley left behind him only three daughters with small portions 
and few talents ! — one of whom, having not yet quite lost her memory, has 
written the above account for the benefit of those who may want hereafter to 
be instructed in the history, or rather to have a sketch of the House of Cowper. 

In 1795 Cowper and Mrs. Unwin were removed to Norfolk, 
in order that they might be under the immediate care of Mr. 
Johnson. Mrs. Unwin died in 1796, but for a time the poet 
seems to have improved in bodily health and mental activity. 
In the sumimer of 1798, Johnny was thinking of taking his 
cousin to the east coast for change of air. Lady Hesketh, like 
most other people at that period, was full of apprehension of 
the long -threatened French invasion, and writes in June 

I understand from his [Cowper*s] letter that you meant to take him to the 
seaside — ^is not that a hazardous step at this critical time, when the Toulon 
fleet has certainly sayFd, and no one knows its destination ? Your Eastern 
Coast has always been considered to be in danger, though on what side they 
are to attack us, or whether they are to attack us at all, is, I believe, known 
only to themselves ; but sure enough I should be grieved at heart should any 
of these wretches land in your neighbourhood. I hope our dear Cousin does 
not see the newspapers, and does not know either the dangers we are in, or the 


Horrors that are going forward in Ireland^ where they are doing their best to 
imitate their dear friends the French. 

In April of the same year she had urged her correspondent 

draw fcfr one hundred pound at three-days sights and the sooner the better^ 
for you don't know what might happen, or how soon a few guineas may be 
necessary to carry you out of the way of the French devils, who I really believe 
will land in as many parts of the kingdom as they can, to create the greater 
degree of confusion ; and though I trust we shall finally be preserved from 
their machinations, yet as no money will be to be had for some time should any 
disturbance really happen, it will be proper for every one to keep a few guineas 
by them. They are very difficult things to get, I know, and I don't think that 
even here at Bath I have been able to get more than ten or twelve for about 
three months, all notes being changed by other notes, and as those notes will be 
perfectly useless in case of anything happening at the bank, gold will be your 
only resource. I beg, therefore, when you get your money, you will by gentle 
degrees, turn as much of it into gold as you can. You must do it in a care- 
less manner, and not with any earnestness, but pay all with paper, and never 
give a guinea to a tradesman while you have a note in the world — by that 
means you wiU pick up as I do, two guineas here, three there, and so on. I 
advise you also to take care to pay all your debts, unless they should be very 
large, and then I don't know what to say. I believe I do not owe a shilling in 
the world, except what I shall pay to-morrow morning in my weekly book, 
and tho' by this means one cannot possess much money, one has the comfort of 
knowing it is all one's own ; which otherwise it could not be you know. 

Lady Hesketh was as patriotic as she was loyal, and she 
was delighted with the Anglophile writings of the Swiss, 
Mallet du Pan. 

When you get the AnU-Jacobin Magazine [she says in a letter dated 
December 1798] you will find there extracts in English from a French work 
of *' Mallet du Pan," which comes out twice a month I think. When you read 
what he says about us you must be proud of being an Englishman, if you never 
were so before. I will treat you here with a little short extract, which I think 
will make you hold up your head, and strut alK>ut like Ancient Pistol ! After 
saying that he left the Continent under the idea that England was on the 
brink of Ruin, and that France with her gunboats was going to complete her 
destruction, he writes in these words, '' How was I surprised on landing in 
England to find that a war, the most terrible that any Empire was ever ex- 
posed to, produced a thousand times less risk, trouble, sadness and fear than 
the charms of Peace, in which all the competitors for concord with the French 


Republick, rock themselves — and tremble. It is with 800 ships of war^ 150,000 
seamen, 300,000 men under arms, X50,000,000 sterling annually poured by 
public patriotism, opulence and liberality into the scale of resources, it is with 
periodical victories, the brilliancy of which has never been equalled in the 
Marine Annak of any nation ; it is in securing all the anchors of an admirable 
constitution the more, the more the enemy tries to remove them, that England 
waits without fear and without impatience, the issue of her dangers." I could 
write a great deal more from this charming work, and had I a frank I would, 
because I am sure you would be pleased with it. I shall only add on this 
subject that it is hojust and pleasing a picture of our situation that I fancy our 
dear Cousin would like to hear it, were you to read it to him with "good 
Emphasis and Distinction," as Sir Gregory Gazelle says in the Farce. Maliet du 
Pan is a native of Geneva, and writes with more spirit than any one whom I 
have met with a great while. He is generally admired and esteemed. 

Although Lady Hesketh entertained her young cousin 
with her observations about the people and events of the day, 
the main object of her frequent letters was to ask the latest 
tidings of Cowper ; and when now and then the poet was well 
enough to send her a line himself, her delight knew no 

I find myself [she writes in this same year, 1798] under the necessity of 
telling you, my good young friend, of the very great pleasure it gave me to 
receive a few lines from our beloved cousin a few days ago ! 'lliey were 
melancholy lines, 'tis true, and there were but few of them, but such as they 
were, they were unspeakably welcome to me as coming from his dear hand ; 
just, too, at a time when I thought of writing to him myself, and had him on 
my mind very particularly for some days. I hope the dear soul has received 
my answer, which I wrote immediately ; it will give me great pleasure if I can 
hear that he read it with composure— or at least that he did not consider the 
friendship and affection ivhich I expressed for him as insults. I well remember 
he was too apt to think so of every kind thing that was said to, or of him, dear 
soul ! Yet how is it possible to write but from ones Heart, and I am sure if I 
write from mine, my letters can contain nothing but tenderness and friendship 
to this dear Being, whose restoration to health is the first wish of my heart, and 
my daily prayer. 

When "Johnny" is able to report improvement, she 

There is no describing the pleasure it gives me to think that our inesti- 
mable cousin begins to take an interest in anything, and above all do I rejoice 


that be begins to interest bimself in what interests all the world — his own 
deUghlJul works ! That he will suffer you to read them to him, did, indeed, 
make me shed tears of joy — but do not be angry if I say that I do envy you 
the delightful task of reading those heavenly poems. Had I a vwce, depend 
upon it^ I should set out directly to take this occupation from you, or at least to 
share it with you. What indeed would I not give to read that divine perform- 
ance to the dear author of it, and it is so gratifying to me to think that he wiU 
consent to listen to them, that I can only hope you will not wait till you have 
laboured through the sixteen volumes [of Shakespeare] you talk of, before you 
enter upon this most pleasing of all tasks. 

In the summer of 1799 Lady Hesketh was at Weymouth at 
the same time as George III. and his family. While there her 
whole time, she says, was taken up in looking at the Royal 
Family, who were parading under her windows half a dozen 
times a day. 

You who are well acquainted with rxiy%fUenseloyalty\jAie continues] will readily 
imagine the pleasure it gave me to see the dear king so well and so happy as he 
always appeared to be. It is indeed a heart-cheering sight to behold this good 
and gracious monarch surrounded by his charming family (the females of it I 
mean) who all seem delighted in his company, and with whom he appears as 
ea^ and as happy as any private gentleman in his dominions. Indeed I must say 
that I never beheld so charming a picture of domestic comfort and felicity as 
these good people exhibit. 

Lady Hesketh's loyalty naturally suffered no diminution 
when, on the occasion of another visit to Weymouth, she was 
admitted into the intimacy of the Royal Family. 

I have enjoyed [she says] some most amusing and delightful days in their 
society on the " Royal Sovereign " [the royal barge] which is by much the most 
magnificent, and at the same time the most elegant thing I ever saw, and in the 
truest taste. A fine band of music on board adds greatly to the entertainment, 
the best part of which, however, consists in the easy gayety and affability ot 
the whole Royal Family, who seem to endeavour to out-doo each other in kind- 
ness and graciousness to all who approach them. We dine at two o'clock, and 
the hours from ten in the morning to five or six in the evening when we come 
on shore pass only with too much rapidity. Of all the women I ever met with the 
Queen lias the most superior talents for conversation, and it is indeed delightful 
to be with her Majesty, either in public or private, in both which situations I 
have frequently been admitted, and the princesses could not be kinder to me 
if I was their sister, and this to a woman of my age is certainly a strong proof 
No. 8. III. 2.--MAY 1901 i 


of their goodness. The king is certainly to all appearance yoonger by ten 
years than he was a year ago— strangers would suppose him not more thtn fifty 
years old^ and from my heart I wish he were no more. He is so good, so 
rationally pious^ and so kind and benevolent to everybody, that I cannot look 
at liim without wishing that he might live for ever. 

So a[ithusiastic a loyalist was naturally deeply agitated by 
the attempt made on the king's life by Hadfield in May 1800. 
It will be remembered that George III., when entering his 
box at Drury Lane, was shot at by Hadfield from his seat in 
the pit The king, who was unharmed, prevented a panic by 
quietly sitting out the play. 

God grant [writes Lady Hesketh] this wretched Hadfield may not 
escape the punishment he merits on the pretence of insanity. Nothing was so 
plain to me as that Sir W. Addington*s stupid questions and the infonnation 
he so kindly gave him, that that plea would lessen his offence^ made the wretch 
take that ground, for at the beginning he was certainly as much in his senses 
as I am. I was quite amased and shocked at Addington's behavioar before I 
had a key to it. It now turns out that he was drunk, and is therefore veiy 
properly set aside, for tho' justice may sometimes be blind, she never should 
be drunk ! I hope all you good folks in Norfolk are delighted with the forti- 
tude and extreme magnanimity of the King's behaviour on that occasion. Had 
he retired, the house would have been pulled to pieces in a moment — ^the Riot 
would have become general, and thousands of lives might have been lost ! ^ 
believe I should have dyed had I been that night at the playhouse, but could 
I have survived, I should have thought it a most affecting and charming sight 
to see such a Monarch surrounded by such a &mi]y. I am assured that when 
the King came out of the box, all his sons pressed round him. The Prince of 
Wales knelt and kissed his hand, and said something in a low voice which 
affected the King extremely, who embraced him tenderly. It seems that 
Townsend, one of the Bow Street officers, took notice that when the house was 
filling, this Hadfield came in with four or five ill-looking feUows who took 
great pains to place him where he could have the best aim at the Rojal Box, 
and having done this they went away themselves. How plain it is that the 
plot was laid and that the wretched man is only mad when he is drunk. 

It need scarcely be said that I^ady Hesketh was strictly 
conservative in all her tastes and habits. She loved the old 


school of manners and dress, and could not away with certain 
modern laxities which were gradually creeping into fashion. 
In one letter, after having commended the appearance of ft 


common friend, who, in spite of his poverty, always looked 
" neat and nice, clean as a silver penny, and well-powdered," 
she suddenly breaks off : 

By the way, my good friend^ as I have mentioned dregs, let me intreat of you 
not to give way to the blackguardism of the Times, nor to suffer yoar pupils to do 
so. For heaven's sake, if not for mine, do not go without powder ! nor wear 
checked shirts I nor a coloured handkerchief about your neck like a sailor out 
of employ, nor your hair dirty and ill combed, as if you had just come out of a 
dungeon. Many of the young men I see affect this abomination, and look like 
so many hang-dogs. One called the other day upon me just in this trim, and 
with the additional ornament of a beard, a week old I believe ! As I knew 
him pretty well, I ventured to ask him what prison he had escaped firom. Sure 
I am that he richly deserved to have been instantly committed to another, and 
certainly would, had I to judge him, for I should certainly have taken him for 
a pickpocket on the strength of his appearance ; for nothing except Filch in 
the '* Beggar's Opera " ever looked like him, and he was not half so dirty I am 
sure — if he had, he would have been hissed off the stage, as too ill-dressed even 
for the character. 

The good lady was accustomed to speak her mind on most 
subjects, and she expected to have all her commands obeyed, 
as well as her letters promptly answered, so woe betide Johnny 
if by any chance he neglected his correspondent. On one such 
occasion she writes in half- whimsical displeasure : 

Oh, thou vile Johnny ! had I not long ago been fiilly convinced that you 
were dead and buried, I should certainly have had you assassinated. How could 
you — strange and unaccountable as you are — suffer so many weeks to elapse 
without sending one line in answer to a letter about which you must think that 
I was so anxious, and concerning which it was really necessary that I should 
receive information ? Oh, you are a wicked little Levite ! and I believe I must 
renounce all correspondence with you, that you may never have it in your 
power to serve me such a trick again ! Day after day, and week after week 
have I expected to hear, but not a word ! Certain it is, therefore, that I 
should, as I before said, have assassinated you, and set East Dereham on fire, 
had I not concluded that your doom was sealed without my assistance, and 
indeed that you had dyed before my letter reached East Dereham, because 
supposing you alive at the time, nothing could excuse your not saddling your 
Heirs, Exois and Assigns with a full and copious answer to all my queries. 

The faithM Johnny's labours of love were gradually draw- 
ing to a close. The letters take a sadder tone as the poets 


melancholy increases and his bodily health declines. Johnny 
is very patient with his correspondent, and keeps her informed 
of every change during the last few week of Cowper's life. 
There is heartfelt feeling in the letter written by Lady Hesketh 
on April 28, 1800, when she was hourly expecting to hear that 
the end had come. 

I must write a few lines, my dear good friend, [it begins] to acknowledge 
the receipt of your meloncholy packet just received, which I feel but too sensibly 
comes to prepare me for the last heart-rending intelligence ! which (coward 
that I am) I wish to delay at the expense of this beloved creature's happiness 
— for will he not be happy ! Eternally happy ; oh yes, I know he will ! he 
must ! All my wish and hope and prayer is that he may have some hours or 
moments of comfort and assurance that he is about to exchange his cruel state 
of misery and wretchedness for one of endless peace and bliss ! I am myself very 
unwell, and hardly know what I write^ for indeed I do most cruelly dread your 
next letter, which is alas ! I fear already on the road. Such a state as yoa 
represent our dearest cousin to be in cannot continue long, and who should 
wish it could— dear amiable excellent cousin ! whom I have loved with the 
tenderest affection through life, and for whom I have always felt the love of a 
sister, how shall I part with you ! How acknowledge to myself that I shall 
never more be cheered by your lively playful wit, never instructed and improved 
by your delightful conversation ! Oh, my dear Mr. Johnson, among the many 
friends which it has pleased God to bless me with there is no one I ever loved 
and esteemed as I have always invariably done this dear cousin, who has been 
to me as a highly-valued brother — O, how I dread the next decisive letter — 
how it will wound the half-broken heart oi 

Your affect, and obliged 

H. Hesketh. 

Cowper's long sufferings were ended on April 25, 1800. 
Lady Hesketh survived him long enough to contribute a good 
deal of valuable material to Hayley's "Life,*' and also to 
impose certain shackles on the unfortunate biographer which 
considerably handicapped him in the performance of his tasL 
She died at Clifton on January 15, 1807, in the seventy-fifth 
year of her age. 

Catharine B. Johnson. 


By Anthony Hope 



LORD SOUTHEND was devoted to his wife— a state of 
feeling natural often, creditable always. Yet the reason 
people gave for it — ^and gave with something like an explicit 
sanction from him — ^was not a very exalted one. Susanna 
made him so exceedingly comfortable. She was bom to 
manage an hotel and cause it to pay fifteen per cent. Being 
a person — not of social importance, nothing could make her 
that — but of social rank, she was forced to restrict her genius 
to a couple of private houses. The result was like the light 
of the lamps in the heroine's boudoir, a soft brilliancy : in 
whose glamour Susanna's plain face and limited intellectual 
interests were lost to view. She was also a particularly 
good woman; but her husband knew better than to talk 
about that. 

Behold him after the most perfect of lunches, his armchair 
in exactly the right spot, his papers by him, his cigars to his 
hand (even these Susanna understood), a sense of peace in his 
heart, and in his head a mild wonder that anybody was dis- 
contented with the world. In this condition he intended to 

*/ Copyright 1900 by A. H. Hawkins in the U.S.A. All rights strictly 


spend at least a couple of hours ; after which Susanna would 
drive him gently once round the park, take him to the House 
of Lords, wait twenty minutes, and then land him at the 
Imperium. He lit a cigar and took up the Economist ; it was 
not the moment for an3rthing exciting. 

" A lady to see you, my lord — on important business." 

Excessive comfort is enervating. After a brief and fiitile 
resistance he found Mina Zabriska in the room, and himself 
regarding her with mingled consternation and amusement. 
Relics of excitement hung about the Imp, but they were 
converted to business purposes. She came as an agent The 
name of her principal awoke Southend's immediate interest. 

" She's come up to London ? " he exclaimed. 

" Yes, both of us. We're at their old home." 

Southend discovered his pince-nez and studied her thin 
mobile little face. 

"And what have you come up for?" he asked after a 

Mina shrugged her shoulders. " Just to see what's going 
on," she said. " I daresay you wonder what IVe got to do 
with it ? " His manner seemed to assent, and she indicated her 
position briefly. 

" Oh, that's it, is it ? You knew the late Lady Tristram. 

And you knew " Again he regarded her thoughtfully. " I 

hope Lady Tristram — ^the new one — ^is well ? " 

There was the sound of a whispered consultation outside 
the door ; it drew Mina s eyes in that direction. 

" That's all right," he smiled. " It's only my wife scold- 
ing the butler for having let you in. This is my time for 

" Rest I " exclaimed Mina rather scornfully. " You wrote 
to Cecily as if you could do something." 

" That was rash of me. What do you want done ? IVe 
heard about you from Iver, you know." 

" Oh, the Ivers have nothing to do with this. It's just 
between Cecily and Mr. Tristram." 


" And you and me, apparently." 

" What was your idea when you wrote ? I made Cecily 
let me come and see you because it sounded as if you had 
an idea." If he had no idea, it was clear that contempt 
awaited him. 

" I wanted to be friendly. But as for doing anything — 
weU, that hardly depends on me." 

** But things can't go on as they are, you know," she said 

" Unhappily, as I understand the law " 

** Oh, I understand the law too — and very silly it is. I 
suppose it can't be changed ? " 

** Good gracious, my dear Madame Zabriska ! Changed ! " 
And on this point too ! Nohwms leges AngUae. He just 
stopped himself from the quotation. 

" What are Acts of Parliament for ? " Mina demanded. 

" Absolutely out of the question," he laughed. ** Even if 
everybody consented, absolutely." 

" And Harry Tristram wouldn't consent, you mean ? " 

" Well, could any man ? '* 

Mina looked round the room with a discontented air, there 
is such a lamentable gulf between feeling that something must 
be done and discovering what it is. 

** I don't say positively that nothing can be done," he 
resumed after a moment, dangling his glass and looking at her 
covertly. " Are you at leisure this afternoon ? " 

" If you've got anything to suggest." Mina had grown 
distrustful of his intelligence, and her tone showed it. 

" I thought you might like to come and see a friend of 
mine, who is kind enough to be interested in Harry Tristram." 
He added, with the consciousness of naming an important 
person, " I mean Lady Evenswood." 

" Who's she ? " asked the Imp curtly. 

To do them justice. Englishmen seldom forget that allow- 
ances must be made for foreigners. Lord Southend explained 
gravely and patiently. 


" Well, let's go," said Mina indifferently. " Not that it 
seems much use," her manner added. 

"Excuse me a moment," said he, and he went out to 
soothe his wife's alarm and assure her that he was not tired. 

As they drove, Mina heard more of Lady Evenswood — 
among other things, that she had known Addie Tristram as a 
child ; this fact impressed the Imp beyond all the rest But 
Lady Evenswood herself made a greater impression stilL An 
unusual timidity assaulted and conquered Mina when she 
found herself with the white-haired old lady who never seemed 
to do more than gently suggest and yet exercised command. 
Southend watched them together with keen amusement, while 
Lady Evenswood drew out of Mina some account of Cecily s 
feelings and of the scene at Blent 

" Well, that's Tristram all over," sighed Lady Evenswood 
at the end. 

" Yes, isn't it ? " cried Mina, emboldened by a sjonpathy 
that spoke her own thought. " She hates to feel she's taken 
everything away firom him. But Lord Southend says he can't 
have it back." 

" Oh, no, no, my dear. Still " She glanced at 

Southend, doubtful whether to mention their scheme. 

He shook his head slightly. 

" I daresay Lady Tristram was momentarily excited," he 
remarked to Mina, '' and I think too that she exaggerates what 
Harry feels. As far as I've seen him, he's by no means 

" Well, she is anyhow," said Mina. " And you won't 
convince her that he isn't." She turned to Lady Evens- 
wood. " Is there nothing to be done ? You see it's all being 

" All being wasted ? " 

'' Yes, Blent and all of it He can't have it ; and as things 
are now she can't enjoy it" 

" Very perverse, very perverse, certainly," murmured South* 
end, frowning — ^although he was rather amused too. 


"With an obvious solution," said Lady Evenswood, "if 
only we lived in the realms of romance." 

" I have suggested a magician/' put in Southend. " Though 
he doesn't look much like one/' he added with a laugh. 

Mina did not understand his remark, but she caught Lady 
Evenswood's meaning. 

" Yes," she said, " but Harry wouldn't do that either. ' 

" He doesn't like his cousin ? ' 

" Yes, I think so." She smiled as she added, " And even 
if he didn't that mightn't matter." 

The other two exchanged glances as they listened. Mina, 
inspired by a subject that never failed to rouse her, gained 

" Any more than it mattered with Miss Iver," she pursued. 
" And he might just as likely have given Blent to Cecily in 
that way as in the way he actually did — ^if she'd wanted it very 
much and — and it had been a splendid thing for him to do." 

Lady Evenswood nodded gently. Southend raised his 
brows in a sort of protest against this relentless analysis. 

" Because that sort of thing would have appealed to him. 
But he'd never take it fix>m her ; he wouldn't even if he was 
in love with her." She addressed Lady Evenswood especially. 
" You understand that ? " she asked. " He wouldn't be 
indebted to her. He'd hate her for that." 

" Not very amiable," commented Southend. 

" Amiable ? No ! " Amiability seemed at a discount with 
the Imp. 

'* You know him very well, my dear ? ' 

" Yes, I — I came to." Mina paused, and suddenly blushed 
at the remembrance of an idea that had once been suggested to 
her by Major Duplay. "And I'm very fond of her," she added. 

" In the dead-lock," said Southend, " I think you'll have to 
try my prescription. Lady Evenswood." 

" You think that would be of use ? " 

" It would pacify this pride of Master Harry's perhaps." 

Mina looked from one to the other. 



Do you mean there's anything possible ? '* she asked. 
My dear, you're a very good friend.*' 

" I'm not very happy. I don't know what in the world 

Cecily will do. And yet ^" Mina struggled with her rival 

impulses of kindness and curiosity. " It's all awfiilly inter- 
esting," she concluded, breaking into a smile she could not 

** That's the only excuse for all of us, I suppose," sighed 
Lady Evenswood. 

Not that I like the boy particularly," added Southend. 
Is there anything ? " asked Mina. The appeal was to the 
lady, not to Southend. But he answered chaffingly : 

" Possibly — just possibly — ^the resources of the Constitu- 
tion " 

The bell of the front door sounded audibly in the morniflg- 
room in which they were. 

"I daresay that's Robert," remarked Lady Evenswood 
'' He said he might calL" 

" Oh, by Jove ! " exclaimed Southend, with a laugh that 
sounded a trifle uneasy. 

The door opened, and a man came in unannounced. He 
was of middle height, with large features, thick coarse hair, and 
a rather ragged beard; his arms were long and his hands 

" How are you. Cousin Sylvia ? " he said, crossing to L^^T 
Evenswood, who gave him her hand without rising. " How 
are you, Southend ? " He turned back to Lady Evenswood. 
" I thought you were alone." 

He spoke in brusque tones, and he looked at Mina as if ne 
did not know what she might be doing there. His appearance 
seemed vaguely familiar to her. 

•* We are holding a little conference, Robert This young 
lady is very interested in Harry Tristram and his afiSsur. Come 
now, you remember about itl Madame Zabriska, this ^ 
Mr. Disney." 

" Mr. Disney I " The Imp gasped. " You mean- 


The other two smiled. Mr. Disney scowled a little. 
Obviously he had hoped to find his relative alone. 

** Madame Zabriska met Addie Tristram years ago at 
Heidelberg, Robert ; and she's been stajdng down at Blent — 
at Merrion Lodge, didn't you say, my dear ? " 

Mr. Disney had sat down. 

" Well, what's the young fellow like ? " he asked. 

" Oh, I — I — don't know," murmured the Imp in forlorn 
shyness. This man was — ^was actually — the — the Prime 
Minister ! Matters would have been rather better if he had 
consented to look just a little like it. As it was, her head was 
in a whirl. Lady Evenswood called him ** Robert " too I 
Nothing about Lady Evenswood had unpressed her as much 
as that, not even the early acquaintance with Addie Tristram. 

" WeU then, what's the girl like ? " asked Disney. 

*^ Robert, don't frighten Madame Zabriska." 

" Frighten her ? What do you mean ? " 

" Oh, tell him what I mean, George," laughed Lady Evens- 
wood, turning to Southend. Mr. Disney seemed genuinely 
resentful at the idea that he might have frightened anybody. 

" Are you a member of the conference too, Southend ? " 

"Well, yes, I — I'm interested in the family." He tele- 
graphed a glance of caution to the old lady ; he meant to 
convey that the present was not a happy moment to broach 
the matter that was in their minds. 

" I'm sorry I interrupted. Can you give me five minutes 
in another room, Cousin Sylvia ? " He rose and waited 
for her. 

" Oh, but can't you do anything ? " blurted out the Imp 

" Eh ? " His eyes under their heavy brows were fibced on 
her now. There was a deep-lying twinkle in them, although 
he still frowned ferociously. ** Do what ? " 

" Why, something for — for Harry Tristram ? " 

He looked round at each of them. The twinkle was gone ; 
the frown was not. 


" Oh, was that the conference ? " he asked slowly. " WeD, 
what has the conference decided?*' It was Mina whom he 
questioned, for which Southend at least was profoundly 
thankftil. ** He*d have bitten my head off, if the women hadn't 
been there,'* he confided to Iver afterwards. 

Mr. Disney slowly sat down again. Mina did not perceive 
the significance of this action, but Lady Evenswood did. 

** It's such an extraordinary case, Robert So very ex- 
ceptional 1 Poor Addie Tristram 1 You remember her ? '* 

"Yes, I remember Addie Tristram," he muttered — 
"growled," Mina described it afterwards. "Well, what do 
you want ? " he asked. 

Lady Evenswood was a woman of tact. 

" Really," she said, " it can't be done in this way, of course. 
If anything is to come befcMfe you, it must come before you 
regularly. I know that, Robert." 

The Imp had no ta<*t. 

" Oh, no," she cried. " Do listen now, Mr. Disney. Do 
promise to help us now 1 " 

Tact is not always the best thing in the world. 

" If you'll tell me in two words, I'll listen," said Mr. 

" I — I can't do that In two words ? Oh, but, please " 

He had turned away from her to Southend. 

" Now then, Southend ? " 

Lord Southend felt that he must be courageous. After all 
the women were there. 

" In two words ? Literally ? " 

Disney nodded, smiling grimly at Mina's clasped hands and 
imploring face. 

" Literally — if you can. There was a gratuitous implica- 
tion that Southend and the rest of the world were apt to be 

"Well, then," said Southend, "I will. What we want 

is " After one glance at Lady Evenswood, he got it 

out. " What we want is — a viscounty." 


For a moment Mr. Disney sat still. Then again he rose 

" Have I tumbled into Bedlam ? " he asked. 

*'It was done in the Bearsdale Case/' suggested Lady 
Evenswood. " Of course there was a doubt there " 

"Anyhow a barony — but a viscounty would be more 
convenient," murmured Southend. 

Mina was puzzled. These mysteries were beyond her. 
She had never heard of the Bearsdale Case, and she did not 
understand why — ^in certain circumstances — ^a viscounty would 
be more convenient. But she knew that something was being 
urged which might meet the difficulty, and she kept eager eyes 
on Mr. Disney. Perhaps she would have done that anyhow ; 
men who rule heads and hearts can surely draw eyes also. 
Yet at the moment he was not inspiring. He Ustened with a 
smile (was it not rather a grin ?) of sardonic ridicule. 

"You made me speak, you know," said Southend. "I'd 
rather have waited till we got the thing into shape." 

" And I should like you to see the boy, Robert." 

" Bedlam 1 " said Mr. Disney with savage conviction. " I'll 
talk to you about what I came to say another day, Cousin 

Sylvia. Really to-day 1" With a vague awkward wave 

of his arm he started for the door. 

" You will try ? " cried the Imp, darting at him. 

She heard him say, half under his breath, " Damned per- 
sistent little woman ! " before he vanished through the door. 
She turned to her companions, her face aghast, her lips 
quivering, her eyes dim. The magician had come and gone 
and worked no spell ; her disappointment was very bitter. 

To her amazement Southend was radiant and Lady 
Evenswood wore an air of gratified contentment She stared 
at them. 

" It went off better than I expected," said he. 

" It must be one of Robert's good days," said she. 
But — ^but — " gasped the Imp. 
He was very civil for him. He must mean to think about 


it, about something of the sort anyhow/' Southend explained. 
*' I shouldn't wonder if it had been in his mind/' he added to 
Lady Evenswood. 

" Neither should I. At any rate he took it splendidly. I 
almost wish we'd spoken of the marriage." 

" Couldn't you write to him ? " 

" He wouldn't read it, Greorge." 

" Telegraph then 1 " 

"It would really be worth trying — considering how he 
took it/' Lady Evenswood did not seem able to get over the 
Prime Minister's extraordinary affability. 

" Well, if he treats you like that — ^great people like you — 
and you're pleased, thank goodness I never met him alone ! '* 
Mina was not shy with them any more ; she had suffered worse. 

They glanced at one another. 

" It was you, my dear. He'd have been more difficult with 
us," said Lady Evenswood. 

" You interested him," Southend assured her. 

" Yes, if anything's been done, you've done it." 

They seemed quite sincere. That feeling of being on her 
head instead of her heels came over Mina again. 

" I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he sent for Harry." 

" No, nor if he arranged to meet Cecily Gainsborough — 
Cecily Tristram, I mean." 

" I thought he looked — ^well, as if he was hit — when you 
mentioned Addie." 

"Oh, there's really no telling with Robert It went off 
very well indeed. What a lucky thing he came 1 " 

Still bewildered, Mina began, all the same, to assimilate 
this atmosphere of contentment and congratulation. 

" Do you really think I — I had anything to do with it ? " 
she asked, a new pride swelling in her heart 

" Yes, yes, you attracted his attention." 

" He was amused at you, my dear." 

"Then I'm glad." She meant that her sufferings would 
perhaps not go unrecompensed. 


''You must bring Lady Tristram to see me/' said Lady 

"CecUy? Oh— weU, rU try." 

Lady Evenswood smiled and Southend laughed outright. 
It was not quite the way in which Lady Evenswood's invita- 
tions were generally received. But neither of them liked Mina 

It was something to go back to the tiny house between the 
King's and Fulham Roads with the record of such adventiu*es 
as these. Cecily was there, languid and weary ; she had spent 
the whole day in that hammock in the strip of garden in which 
Sloyd had found her once. Despondency had succeeded to 
her excitement — ^this was all quite in the Tristram way — and 
she had expected no fruit from Mina's expedition. But Mina 
came home, not indeed with anything very definite, yet laden 
with a whole pack of possibilities. She put that point about 
the viscounty, which puzzled her, first of all. It alone was 
enough to fire Cecily to animation. Then she led up, through 
Lady Evenswood, to Mr. Disney himself, confessing however 
that she took the encouragement which that great man had 
given on faith from those who knew him better than she did. 
Her own impression would have been that he meant to dismiss 
the whole thing as impossible nonsense. 

"Still I can't help thinkiug we've done something," she 
ended in triumph. 

" Mina, are you working for him or for me ? " 

This question faced Mina with a latent problem which she 
had hitherto avoided. And now she could not solve it For 
some time back she had been familiarised with the fact that 
her life was dull when Harry Tristram passed out of it. The 
accepted explanation of that state of feeling was simple enough. 
But then it would involve Cecily in her turn passing out of 
view, or at least becoming entirely insignificant And Mina 
was not prepared for that She tried hard to read the answer, 
regarding Cecily earnestly the while. 



" Mayn't I work for both of you ? " she asked at last 

" Well, I can't see why you should do that," said Cecily, 
rolling out of the hammock and fretfully smoothing her hair. 
I'm a busybody. That's it," said Mina. 
You know what'll happen if he finds it out ? Harry, I 
mean. He'll be furious with both of us." 

Mina reflected. "Yes, I suppose he will," she admitted. 
But the spirit of self-sacrifice was on her, perhaps also that of 
adventure. ** I don't care," she said, " as long as I can help." 

There was a loud knock at the door. Mina rushed into the 
front room and saw a man in uniform delivering a letter. The 
next moment the maid brought it to her — a long envelope with 
" First Lord of the Treasury " stamped on the lower left-hand 
comer. She noticed that it was addressed to Lady £venswood's 
house, and must have been sent on post-haste. She tore it 
open. It was headed '' Private and Confidential." 

Madame, — I am directed by Mr. Disney to request you to state in writingi 
for his consideration, any &cts which may be within your knowledge as to the 
circumstances attendant on the marriage of the late Lady Tiistrain of Blent, 
and the birth of her son^ Mr. Henry Austen Fitzhubert Tristram. I am to add 
that your communication will be considered confidential. 

I am, Madame, yours faithfully, 

Madame Zabriska. Broaimtaibi. 

« CecUy, Cecily, CecUy 1 " Mina darted back and thrust 
this wonderfiil document into Cecily's hands. " He does mean 
something, you see, he will do something 1 " she cried. " OK 
who's Broadstairs, I wonder." 

Cecily took the letter and read. The Imp reappeared with 
a red volume in her hand 

" Viscount Broadstairs — eldest son of the Earl of Ra^ttS' 
gatel" she read with wide-open eyes. "And he says he^ 
directed to write, doesn't he ? Well, you are funny in Englan^l 
But I don't wonder I was afraid of Mr. Disney/' 

" Oh, Mr. Disney's secretary, I suppose. But, MiM*^ 
Cecily was alive again now, but her awakening did not seem 
be a pleasant one. She turned suddenly from her friend an > 


walking as far off as the little room would let her, flung herself 
into a chair. 

" What's the matter ? " asked Mina, checked in her excited 


" What will Harry care about anything they can give him 
without Blent ? " 

Mina flushed. The conspiracy was put before her — not by 
one of the conspirators, but by her who was the object of it. 
She remembered Lady Evenswood's question and Southend's. 
She had answered that it might not much matter whether 
Harry liked his cousin or not He had not loved Janie Iver. 
Where was the difference ? 

" He won't want anything if he can't have Blent Mina, 
did they say anything about me to Mr. Disney ? " 

" No," cried Mina eagerly, 

" But they will, they mean to ? " Cecily was leaning for- 
ward eagerly now. 

Mina had no denial ready. She seemed rather to hang on 
Cecily's words than to feel any need of speaking herself. She 
was trying to follow Cecily's thoughts and to trace the cause 
of the apprehension, the terror almost, that had come on the 
girl's face. 

" He'll see it— just as I see it I " Cecily went on. " And, 
Mina " 

She paused again. Still Mina had no words, and no com- 
fort for her. This sight of the other side of the question was 
too sudden. It was Harry then, and Harry only, who had 
really been in her thoughts ; and Cecily, her friend, was to be 
used as a tooL There might be little ground for blaming 
Southend who had never seen her, or Lady Evenswood who 
had been brought in purely in Harry's interest. But how 
stood Mina, who was Cecily's friend ? Yet at last a thought 
flashed into her mind and gave her a weapon. 

"Well, what did you come to London for?" she cried 
defiantly. '' Why did you come, unless you meant that too ? " 
Cecily started a little and lay back in her chair. 

No. 8. III. a.— May 1901 m 


'' Oh» I don't know/' she muimured despcmdently. '^ He 
hates me» but if he's offered Blent and me he'll — she'll take us 
both, Mina, you know he urill." An indignant rush of colour 
came on her cheeks. ** Oh, it's very easy for you 1 " 

In a difficulty of that sort it did not seem that even Mr. 
Disney could be of much avaiL 

'' Oh, you Tristrams 1 " cried Mina in despair. 



Pity for the conmuunder who, while engaging the enemy on 
his front with valour and success, breaking his line and driving 
him from his position, finds himself ^ assailed in the rear by an 
unexpected or despised foe and the prize of victory soddenly 
wrenched from him I His fate is more Inttar thafi^ if he had 
failed in his main encounter^ his self^rqproftebes more keen^ 

Major Duf^y was awakening to the fact that this^was his 
situation. Triumph was not his although Harry TVistram 
had fled from the battle. Iver's carefully guarded fTiendfiness^ 
and the touch of motherly compassion in his wife's manner, 
Mrs. Trumbler's tacit request (conveyed by a medc and 
Christian sympathy) that be should bow tathe wiU of Provi- 
d«ice» Miss S/s malicious questions as to where he meant to 
spend the winter after leaving Merrion, told him the opinimi 
of the world. Janie Iver had begun to think flirtaticm wrong ; 
and there was an altogether new and remarkable self-assertion 
about Bob Broadley. The last thing annoyed Duplay most; 
It is indeed absurd that a young man, formerly of a co«men<J- 
able humility, should thmk a change of demeanour justified ' 
merely because one young woman, herself insignifieanti chooses 
for reasons good or bad to favour hkn. Duplay assumed to 
despise Bob ; it is often better policy to despise people thasr to 
enter into competition vdth them, anddt is always rash to do 


both; These and other truths — ^as, for example, that for some 
purposes it is better not to be forty-four — ^the Major was 
learning. Was there any grain of comfort ? It lay in the fact 
that he was forty-four. A hypothetical, now impossible, yet 
subtly soothing Major of thirty routed Bob Broadley and 
earned all before him. Ih other words Duplay was driven 
back to the Last Ditch of Consolation. What we could haVe 
done is the latest-tried plastier for the* wound of what we 
cannot do; it would be wisef td'tty it' sometimes a little 

Prom the orthodox sentim^fttalist he could claim no com- 
passion. He had lost, not his heart's love, btit- a Very comfort^- 
able settlement; he was wounded more in hii$ vanity than in 
his affections ; he had wasted, not his life, only one of his few 
remaining effective summers. But tHe uitte laX, iti*tf« base 
their views on what= men generally* are, maiy^ spAre Hictt one of 
those less bitter teajfS which they a?pprof*iatfe* t6 thef mis- 
fortunes of others. If the teal' a* it Mk' rtitdts a smfle-^why 
not ? Such encounters a^e ha^rdly unexpected and riiay well 
prove agreeable. 

There was another disconsolate^ person in the vaHey" of the 
Blent— little Mri Gainsborough, left alone in the big house 
with a note from his daughter commanding^ him to 'stay there 
and to say nothing to anybody. He waiis l<»)ely asid iKervous 
with the servants ; the cUrios' gave him ^smaU pleiEtsure sinee 
he had not bought thesn, and, if he had,' they* would not bate 
been cheap. Fcnr* reasons before indicirt;^^,' • Bkntmouth ated 
the curiosity-she^ there had become too * dangerous; Besides, 
he had no monley; Cecily had forgotten that detail in h^ 
hurried flight. A man cannot spend more than a' pcntioil of 
his waking hours* in a library or over pedigrees. Gainsboroagb 
found himself regretting London anfd the little house. If we 
divide humanity into those who do things anid those who have 
to get out of the way while they are being^ done (just asrea^ 
sonable a divisioiy as many sdopled by statfeticians) (^ams^ 
borough bdonged te the latter dus; like most of us^ perhAfAsr 


but in a particularly unmistakable degree. And he knew he 
did — ^not, perhaps, like most of us in that He never thought 
even of appealing to posterity. 

Meanwhile Janie Iver was behaving as a pattern daughter, 
cherishing her mother and father and making home sweet, 
exercising, in fact, that prudent economy of wilfulness which 
preserves it for one great decisive struggle, and scorns to 
fritter it away on the details of daily life. Girls have adopted 
these tactics from the earliest days (so it is recorded or may be 
presumed) and wary are the parents who are not hoodwinked 
by them, or, even if they perceive, are altogether unsoftened. 
Janie was very saintly at Fairholme ; the only sins which she 
could have found to confess (not that Mr. Trumbler favoured 
confession — quite the contrary) were certain suppressions of 
truth touching the direction in which she drove her dog-cart — 
and even these were calculated to avoid the jiving of pain. 
As for the Tristrams — ^where were they? They seemed to 
have dropped out of Janie's story. 

Iver needed comfort There is no disguising it, however 
much the admission may damage him in the eyes of that same 
orthodox sentimentaUst He had once expounded his views 
to Mr. Jenkinson Neeld (or rather one of his expositions of 
them has been recorded, there having been more than one) — 
and the present situation did not satisfy them. Among other 
rehabilitations and whitewashings, that of the cruel father 
might well be undertaken by an ingenious writer ; if Nero had 
had a grown-up daughter there would have been the chance I 
Anyhow the attempt would have met with some sympathy 
frt>m Iver. Of course a man desires his daughter's happiness 
(the remark is a platitude), but he may be allowed to feel 
annoyance at the precise form in which it realises — or thinks it 
will realise — ^itself, a shape that may disappoint the aim of his 
career. If he is provided with a son, he has the chance of a 
more unselfish benevolence; but Iver was not Let all be 
said that could be said — Bob Broadley was a disappointment 
Iver would, if put to it, have preferred Duplay. There was at 


least a cosmopolitan polish about the Major; drawing-rooms 
would not appal him, nor the thought of going to Court throw 
him into a perspiration. Iver had been keen to find out the 
truth about Harry Tristram, as keen as Major Duplay. At 
this moment both of them were wishing that the truth had 
never been discovered by them, nor flimg in the face of the 
world by Harry himself. 

" But darling Janie will be happy," Mrs. Iver used to say. 
She had surrendered very easily. 

He was not really an unnatural parent because he growled 
once or twice, " Darling Janie be hanged 1 " It was rather his 
wife's attitude of mind that he meant to condemn. 

Bob himself was hopeless from a parent's point of view. 
He was actually a little touched by Mrs. Trumbler's way of 
looking at the world ; he did think — and confessed it to Janie — 
that there was something very remarkable in the way Harry 
Tristram had been cleared from his path. He was in no sense 
an advanced thinker, and people in love are apt to believe in 
what are called interpositions. Further he was primitive in his 
ideas ; he had won the lady, and that seemed to him enough. 
It was enough, if he could keep her ; and in these days that 
really depends on herself. Moreover he had no doubt of 
keeping her ; his primitiveness appears again ; with the first 
kiss he seemed to pass from slave to master. Many girls would 
have taught him better. Janie was not one. She seemed 
rather to acquiesce, being, it must be presumed, also of a 
somewhat primitive cast of mind. It was terribly clear to Iver 
that the pair would stand to one another and settle down in 
inglorious contentment together for their Uves. Yes, it was 
worse than X)uplay ; something might have been made of him. 
As for Harry — Iver used to end by thinking how sensible a 
man old Mr. Neeld was ; for Mr. Neeld had determined to hold 
his tongue. 

There was another vexation, of a difierent kind indeed, but 
also a check in his success. Blinkhampton was not going quite 
right. Blinkhampton was a predestined sea-side resort on the 


South Coast, and Iver» with certain associntes, meant to 
develop it They had bought it up, and laid it out for build- 
ing, and arranged for a big hotel with Birch and. Company, the 
&mous furnishers. But ^}l along in front of it — ^between wb^« 
the street now was and the esplanade was soon to be — ran 
a long narrow strip, forming the estate of an elderly gentleman 
named Masters. Of course Masters had to be bought out, the 
whole scheme hanging on that. Iver, keen at a barton, hard 
in business hours (had not Mina Zabriska discovered that ?), 
confident that nobody would care to incur his enmity — ^he was 
powerful — ^by forestalling him, had refused Masters his price ; 
the old gentleman would have to come down. But some young 
men stepped in, with the rashness of their youth, and acquired 
an option of purchase from Masters. Iver smiled in a vexed 
fSEishion, but was not dismayed. He let it be known that any- 
body who advanced money to the young men — Sloyd, Sloyd 
and Gum^ was the firm — would be his enemies; then he 
waited for the young men to approach him. They did not 
come. At last, jNide protesting, prudence insisting, he wrote 
and suggested that they might probably be glad to make an 
arrangement with him. Mr. Sloyd — our Mr. Sloyd — ^wrote 
back that they had found a capitalist — ^no less than that — and 
proposed to develop their estate themselves, to put up th^ 
own hotel, also a row of boarding*houses, a club, a winter 
garden, and possibly an aquariitm. Youth and a sense of 
elation caused Sloyd to add that they would always be 
glad to co*operate with other gentlemen interested in Blink- 
hampton. *^ 

Iver had many irons in the fire ; he could no mcHre devote 
himself exclusively and personally to Blinkhanopton than 
Napoleon ^ could spend all his time in the Peninsula. The 
transaction was important, yet hardly vital ; besides Iver him- 
self could keep his ear to the telephone. It was an opportunity 
for Bob to win his spurs ; Jvcr proposed to rbim to go to town 
and act as his representative. 

" I'm afraid you'll lose the game if I play it for you, Mr. 


Iver," responded Bob, with a shake of his head and a good- 
humoured smile. ** I'm not accustomed to that sort of Job, you 

** It would be a good chance for you to begin to leam 
something of business." 

'< Well, you see, fEtrming's my business. And I don't think 
I'm a fool at that. But building speculations and so on — " 
Bob shook his head again. 

The progressive man gazed in wonder at the stationary. 
(We divide Humanity again.) 

" You've no desire for — ^for a broader sphere ? " he asked. 

" Well, I like a quiet life, you see — with my horses, and 
my crops, and so on. Don't believe I could stand the racket." 
So far as physique was concerned, Bob could have stood penal 
servitude and a London Season combined. 

" But it's an opening," Iver persisted, by now actually more 
puzzled than angry. *' If you found yourself at home in the 
work, it might lead to anything." He resisted the temptation 
to add, " Look at me ! " Did not Fairholme, its lawns and 
green-houses, say as much for him ? 

^'But I don't know that I want anjrthing," smiled Bob. 
''Of course 111 have a shot if it'll oblige you," he added. 
" But Well, I'd rather not risk it, you know." 

Janie was there. Iver turned to her in despair. She was 
smiling at Bob in an approving understanding way. 

" It really isn't what would suit Bob, father," said she. 
'' Besides, if he went into your business, we should have 
to be so much in town and hardly ever be at home at 

At home at Mingham I What a destiny. Certainly Blent 

was in the same valley, but Well, a " seat " is one thing, 

and a farm's another ; the world is to blame again, no doubt. 
And with men who want nothing, for whom the word ** opening" 
has no magic, what is to be done ? Abstractly they are seen 
to be a necessary element in the community ; but they do not 
make good sons or sons*in-law for ambitious men. 


when she had seen Bob, an unrepentant cheerfiil Bob, on his 
way, came back to find her father sitting sorrowfuL 

** Dearest father, I'm so sorry," she said, putting her arms 
round his neck. 

He squared his shoulders to meet facts ; he could always 
do that. Moreover he looked ahead — ^that powar was also 
among his gifts — and saw how presently this thing, like other 
things, would become a matter of course. 

" That's settled, Janie," said he. " I've made my last 

She went ofi^ in distress to her mother, but was told to ** let 
him alone." The wisdom of woman and of years spoke. 
Presently Iver went out to play golf. But his heart was still 
bitter within him ; he could not resist the sight of a possible 
sympathiser ; he mentioned to the Major, who was his 
antagonist in the game, that it was not often that a young 
fellow refused such a chance as he had just oiFered in vain to 
Bob Broadley. His prospective relationship to Bob had 
reached the stage of being assumed between Duplay and him, 
although it had not yet been explicitly mentioned. 

"I wish somebody would try me!" laughed the Major. 
" I'm kicking my heels all day down here." 

Iver made no reply and played the round in silence. He 
lost, perhaps because he was thinking of something else. He 
liked Duplay, he thought him clever, and, looking back on the 
history of the Tristram affair, he felt somehow that he would 
like to do the Major a good turn. Were they not in a sense 
companions in misfortune ? 

Two days later, Duplay sat in the offices of Sloyd, Sloyd 
and Gumey, as Iver's representative ; his mission was to repre- 
sent to the youthful firm the exceeding folly of their conduct 
in regard to Blinkhampton. His ready brain had assimilated 
all the facts and they lost nothing by his ready tongue. He 
even made an impression on the enemy. 

" It doesn't do to look at one transaction only, Mr. Sloyd," 
he reminded the spruce but rather nervous young man. " It'll 


pay you to treat us reasonably. Mr. Tver's a good friend to 
have and a bad enemy/ 

"I'm quite alive to all that; but we have obtained a 

legitimate advantage and ^" Sloyd was evidently a little 

puzzled, and he glanced at the clock. 

" We recognise that ; we offer you two thousand pounds. 
We take over your option and give you two thousand." This 
was the figure that Iver and he had decided would tempt the 
young firm ; their fear of the great Mr. Iver would make them 
content with that 

Sloyd was half inclined to be content ; the firm would make 
a thousand ; the balance would be good interest on the 
capitalist's ten thousand pounds; and there would still be 
enough of a victory to soothe the feelings of everybody con- 

" I'm expecting the gentleman who« is associated with us. 
If you'll excuse me, I'll step out and see if he's arrived." 

Duplay saw through the suggestion, but he had no objection 
to permitting a consultation. He lit his cigar and waited while 
Sloyd was away. The Major was in greater contentment with 
himself than he had been since he recognised his defeat. Next 
to succeeding, it is perhaps the pleasantest thing to make 
people regret that you have not succeeded. If he proved his 
capacity Iver would regret what had happened more ; possibly 
even Janie would come to regret it And he was glad to be 
using his brains again. If they took the two thousand, if Iver 
got the Masters estate and entire control of Blinkhampton for 
twenty-two thousand, Duplay would have had a hand in a 
good bargain. He thought the Sloyds would 3rield. " Be 
strong about it," Iver had said. " These young fellows have 
plenty of enterprise, plenty of shrewdness, but they haven't got 
the grit to take big chances. They'll catch at a certainty." 
Sloyd's manner had gone far to bear out this opinion. 

Sloyd returned, but, instead of coming in directly, he held 
the door and allowed another to pass in front of him. Duplay 
jumped up with a muttered exclamation. What the deuce was 


Harry Tristram doing there ? Harry advanced, holding out 
his hand. 

''We neither of us thought we should meet in this 
way. Major Duplay? The world's full of surprises. IVe 
learnt that anyhow, and I daresay youVe known it a long 

'' You re in this business ? " oied the Major, too astonished 
for any preamble. 

Harry nodded. '' Let's get through it/' he said. " Because 
it's very simple. Sloyd and I have made up our minds exactly 
what we ought to have." 

It was the same manner that the Major remembared seeing 
by the Pool — perhaps a trifle less aggressive, but making up 
for that by an even increased seli*confidence. Duplay had 
thought of his former successful rival as a broken man. He 
was not that. He had never thought of him as a speculator in 
building land. Seemingly that was what he had become. 

Harry sat down by the table, Sloyd standing by him and 
spreading out before him a plan of Blinkhampton and the 
elevation of a row of buildings. 

" You ask us," Harry went on resentfully, almost accusingly, 
** to throw up this thing just when we're ready to go ahead. 
Everything's in train ; we could begin work to-morrow." 

" Come, come, where are you going to get the money ? " 
interrupted Duplay. He felt that he must assert himself. 

" Never mind, we can get it ; or we can wait till we do. 
We shut you out just as badly whether we leave the old 
buildings or put up new. However, we shall get it. I'm 
satisfied as to that." 

« You've heard my oflfer ? " 

" Yes," smiled Harry. " The reward for getting ahead of 
Mr. Iver is, it seems, two thousand pounds. It must be done 
pretty often if it's as cheap as that ! I hope he's weU ? " 

" Quite well, Mr. Tristram, thank you. But when you 
talk of getting ahead of him " 

" Well, I put it plainly ; that's all. I'm new to this and I 


daresay Sloyd here would put it better. But my money's in 
it, so I like to have my say." 

Both the dislike and the reluctant respect of old days 
were present in the Major's mind. He felt that the quality on 
whose absence Iver had based his calculationshad been supplied. 
Harry might be ignorant. Sloyd could supply the knowledge. 
Harry had that grit which hitherto the firm had lacked. Harry 
seemed to guess something of what was passing through his 
adversary's mind. 

" I don't want to be anything but fiiendly. Neither Sloyd 
nor I want that — especially towards Mr. Iver--ror towards you. 
Major. We've been neighbours." He smiled and went on, 
smiling still. '' Oddly enough I've said what I'm going fto say 
to you once before — on a different occasion. You seem to 
have been trying to frighten us. I am not to be frightened, 
that's all." 

Sloyd whispered in his ear ; ^Diiplay guessed that he coun- 
selled more urbanity ; Harry turned from him with a rather 
contemptuous little laugh. ** Oh, I've got my living to earn 
now," Duplay heard him whisper — and reflected that he had 
never wasted much time on politeness, even before that necessity 
came upon him. 

It was strange that Sloyd did not try to take any part in 
the discussion. He wore an air of deference, partly due no 
doubt to Harry's ability, yet having unmistakably a social 
flavour about it. Harry's lordlinesses clung to him still, and 
had their efiect on his business partner. Duplay lodged an 
angry inward protest to the efiect that they had none whatever 
on him. 

Perhaps I'd better just say what we want," Harry pursued. 
We've paid Masters twenty thousand. We may be five 
hundred more out of pocket. Never mind that." He pushed 
away the plans and elevations. ** You're empowered to treat, 
I suppose ? " he asked. Sloyd had whispered to him again. 

'' No," said Duplay. '' But as a final ofier, I think I can 
pledge Mr. Iver to go so far as five thousand (over and above 


the twenty thousand of course) — ^to cover absolutely every- 
thingy you know." 

" Multiply your twenty-five by two, and we're your men," 
said Harry. 

" Multiply it by two ? Fifty thousand ? Oh, nonsense 1 " 

"Twenty out of pocket — ^thirty profit I call it very 

Major Duplay rose with a decisive air. 

" I'm afraid I'm wasting your time," he said, " and my own 
too. I must say good-afternoon." 

" Pray, Major Duplay, don't be so abrupt, sir. We've " 

It was Sloyd who spoke, with an eager gesture as though he 
would detain the visitor. Harry turned on him with his 
ugliest, haughtiest scowL 

** I thought you'd left this to me, Sloyd ? " he said. 

Sloyd subsided, apologetic, but evidently terrified. Alas, 
that the grit had been supplied ! But for that a triumph must 
have awaited the Major. Harry turned to Duplay. 

" I asked you before if you'd authority to treat. I ask you 
now if you've authority to refuse to treat." 

" I've authority to refuse to discuss absurdities." 

" Doubtless. And to settle what are absurdities ? Look 
here. I don't ask you to accept that proposal without referring 
to Mr. Iver. I merely say that is the proposal and that we 
give Mr. Iver three days to consider it. After that our offer is 

Sloyd was biting his nails — ^aye, those nails that he got 
trimmed in Regent Street twice a week ; critical transactions 
must bring grist to those skilled in manicure. Duplay glanced 
from his troubled face to Harry's solid, composed, even amused 

" And you might add," Harry went on, " that it would be 
a very good thing if Mr. Iver saw his way to run up and have 
a talk with me. I think I could make him see the thing from 
our point of view." Something seemed to occur to him. 
'' You must tell him that in ordinary circumstances I should 


propose to call on him and to come wherever he was, but — 
well, he'll understand that I don't want to go to Blentmouth 
just now." 

The implied apology reUeved what Duplay had begun to 
feel an intolerable arrogance, but it was a concession of form 
only and did not touch the substance. The substance was and 
remained an ultimatum. The Major felt aggrieved; he had 
been very anxious to carry his first commission through 
triumphantly and with Sclat. For the second time Harry 
Tristram was in his path. 

Harry rose. " That's all we can do to-day," he said. " We 
shall wait to hear from Mr. Iver." 

** I really don't feel justified in putting such a proposition 
before him." 

" Oh, that's for you to consider," shrugged Harry. " I 
think I would though, if I were you. At the worst it will 
justify you in refusing to do business with us. Do you happen 
to be walking down towards Pall Mall ? " Sloyd's offices 
were in Mount Street. "(Jood-day, Sloyd. I'll drop in 

With an idea that some concession might still be forth- 
coming, not from any expectation of enjoying his walk, the 
Major consented to accompany Harry. 

'' It was a great surprise to see you appear," he said as they 
started. *^ So odd a coincidence ! " 

" Not at all," smiled Harry. " You guess why I went into 
it ? No ? Well, of course, I know nothing about such things 
really. But Sloyd happened to mention that Iver wanted to 
buy, so I thought the thing must be worth bujring, and I looked 
into it." He laughed a little. " That's one of the penalties of 
a reputation like Iver's, isn't it ? " 

But I didn't know you'd taken to business at all." 
Oh, one must do something. I can't sit down on foiu: 
hundred a year, you know. Besides this is hardly business. 
By-the-bye, though, I ought to be as much surprised to see 
you. We've both lost our situation, is that it. Major ? " 



Insensibly the Major began to find him rather plea^anter, 
not a man he would ever like really, but, all the satne, more 
tolerable than he had been at Blent; so Harrys somewhat 
audacious reference was received with a grim smile. 

" I knocked you out, you know," Harry pursued. ** Left 
to himself, I don't beUeve old Bob Broadley would ever have 
moved. But I put him up to it" 

** What ? " Duplay had not expected this* 

** Wdl^ you tried to put me out, you see. Besides Janie 
Iver liked him, and she didn't care about you-^or me either, 
for that matter. So just before I — ^well, disappeared — I told 
Bob that he'd win if he went ahead; And I gather he has 
won, hasn't he ? " 

A brief nod from Duplay answered him; he was still 
revolving the news about Bob J^oadley^ 

'' I'm afraid I haven't made you like me any better," said 
Harry, with a laugh. ** And I don't go out of my way to get 
m3rself disliked. Do you see why I mentioned that little fact 
about Bob Broadley just now ? " 

** I confess I don't, imless you wished to annoy me. Or-^ 
pardon — ^parhaps you thought it fair that I should know ?^ 

'' Neither the one nor the other. I didn't do it from the 
personal point of view at all. You see, Bob bad a strong 
position-^-and didn't know it" 

Duplay glanced at him. *^ Well," he said^ '' what yon did 
di^'t help youi though it butt me perhaps." 

'' I told him he^ had a stoORg position. Then he took it 
Hullo, here we are in Pail Mall.^ Now you see, don't you, 
Major ? " 

** No, I don't" Duplay was shcMrt in nmnier agiin. 

'' You don't see any parallel between Bob's position and our 
friend's up there in Mount Street ? " Harry laughed again as 
he held out his hand. '* Well, you tell the story to Iver and 

if he does," he suggested* 

'' Oh^ that's what you mean <? " growled Duplayi 


" Yes," assented Harry, almost gleefully. " That's what 
I mean ; only this time it won't hurt you, and I think it will 
help me. You've done all you could, you know." 

The touch of patronage came again. Duplay had hard 
work to keep his temper under. Yet now it was rather annoy- 
ance that he felt than the black dislike that he used to harbour. 
Harry's misfortune had lessened that. If only Harry had been 
more chastened by his misfortune the annoyance might have 
gone too. Unfortunately the young man seemed almost 

" Well, good-bye. Write to Sloyd — unless Iver decides 
to come up. And don't forget that little story about Bob 
Broadley! Because you'll find it useful, if you think of 
frightening Sloyd. He can't move without me — ^and I don't 
move without my price." 

*' You moved from Blent," Duplay reminded him, stung to 
a sudden malice. 

" Yes," said Harry thoughtfully. " Yes, so I did. Well 
I suppose I had my price. Good-bye." He turned away and 
walked quickly down the street 

''What was his price?" asked the Major, puzzled. He 
was not aware that Harry had got anything out of his 
surrender ; and even Harry himself seemed rather to conclude 
that, since he had moved, he must have got his price than to 
say that he had got it or to be able to tell what it was. 

But all that was not the question now. Duplay sought 
the telegraph office and informed Iver of the uncompromising 
attitude of the enemy. He added that Harry Tristram was in 
the business and that Harry suggested an interview. It was 
perhaps the most significant tribute that Harry had yet 
received when, after a few minutes of surprise and a few more 
of consideration, Iver telegraphed back that he would come up 
to town and wished an appointment to be made for him with 
Mr. Tristram. It was something to force Napoleon to come 
to the Peninsula. 


In fact the only thing that could upset Iver's plans was 
blank defiance. Reviewing his memories of Harry Tristram, 
he knew that defiance was just what he had to fear. It was in 
the blood of the Tristrams, and prudence made no better a 
resistance than propriety. 

{To he continued.) 



JUNE 1901 


The Pyramid of Studiis Page 1 

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THE chief reason for the apparently ureeoncilable conflict 
of opinions as to the relative values of subjects of school 
instruction lies in the ambiguity of the term valvs itself. No 
two persons who write letters to the Times about education 
seem to be agreed to use this very troublesome word in the 
same sense. The like difficulty was perceived by political 
economists long ago, and they have striven, more or less 
successfully, at all events to "mask" the battery in their 
opeirations ; but controversy over educational economy is still 
thrown into almost hopeless confusion by it. This, no doubt, 
arises largely from the greater relative instability of the facts 
with which education deals ; the economics of education lend 
themselves even less than the economics of industry to anything 
like abstract treatment. The subject is almost as much im- 
mersed in matter as life itself. 

We all agree that education is a preparation; and most 
people would say that it is a preparation for life. It foDows, 
then, that an inquiry into educational values appraises the 
pursuits which profess to prepare men and women to make life 
most effective, to get most out of it. It would seem to be 
proved, then, that the value of such pursuits ("studies" 
amongst the number, but not " studies " exclusively) is relative 
to the largest area of human activity. Those gynmastics and 
acquirements which affect most favourably the largest number 
of the things that men do, these are the pursuits of highest 
" value " in education. 

No. 9. III. S.— June 1901 a 


So stated, the problem seems easy enough. And so it, 
perhaps, would be, if our aims were simple, and if we wo^ 
sincere in our endeavours to attain them ; for we have merely 
to ascertain what things practised in statu pupUlari have the 
most momentous consequences as life proceeds to its consum- 
mation, and to adopt those which seem to lead to the best. 
But we are brought face to face with a two-headed difficulty at 
the outset First of all, complete living seems to call for a 
background of substantial physical comfort, or, at all events, 
freedom from discomfort A good man on the rack cannot be 
said to live completely, much less be happy (unless the rack, as 
was once suggested by a puzzled Oxford undergraduate, is a 
singularly bad one), and both St Francis of Assisi and 
St Simeon of the Pillar failed on similar grounds, though for 
very different reasons, to help average man to the largest use 
of life. This backgroimd of bien etre is so indispensable and is 
so primitive a need, that men have always been apt to identify 
it with life itself, and in extreme cases to set themselves so 
ardently to establish it that they have, as misers over their 
gold, transferred to the means by which they hope to achieve 
it the love which was originally inspired by the thing itself. 

And even if this object does not actually fill the whole of 
the field of our desires, we are inclined to narrow oiu* vision 
and to aim at its fruits earlier than we ought Our education, 
too, often seems to have nothing at all in view but a gross 
material prosperity, and we often set our children to bread-and- 
butter studies and tasks before they are fit for them. We 
look too early for " results " that can be measiu'cd and paid for 
in the market For education is concerned with everything 
that men do with the whole field of action. What the man 
can produce for sale is only a small part of the product of his 
personality ; it is by no means the true measure of his worth, 
but is rather a by-product of his full spiritual activity. Every 
good schoolmaster knows this well enough, and is a good 
schoolmaster just in so far as he acts upon it 

But our difficulty has another head. A man's goodness, or 


morality, or worth, bears a necessary relation to society; he 
can grow good only by contact and communion with his fellows, 
and when his accoimt comes to be reckoned up, we can hardly 
doubt that it is by his relations to his fellows that a good deal 
of the reckoning will be determined Man is ^i^^a woXiTiK6v. 
His " nature " is not fully developed except in association with 
others ; he does not get the most out of life except by social 
attrition and communion. Here, again, we seem to have a 
very simple problem to solve. It ought to be easy, we may 
think, to determine what qualities best fit men for the per- 
formance of their duties in society, and to promote the growth 
of those qualities by all the means we can contrive. But a 
little consideration will show us that there is a dangerous 
uncertainty, in practice at all events, about the meaning to be 
attached to the word " Society." Do we mean the Kingdom 
of this world or the Kingdom of God? The irrfXic, the 
Kingdom of Plato and Aristotle, was a much more definite 
and stable thing than oiu* *' society," and both Aristotle and 
Plato show little hesitation in defining a man's duties and 
functions in relation to it. And, in practice, the same line is 
generally taken by ourselves. We weigh a man's worth by 
what we can see of the things he makes, and we show every 
inclination to believe that Providence takes the same view. 
The German Emperor, for instance, an illustrious and con- 
spicuous example, has clearly no sort of doubt that the German 
Empire is the woXig with relation to which the ultimate value 
of the German citizen is to be measured, and that the House 
of Hohenzollem is its Palladium. *^Let us go on building 
ships, and trust in the German God," says a German news- 
paper. A more general, and perhaps a more philosophical, 
view regards a man's worth as determined by his fitness for 
commerce, and national worth as measured by national com- 
mercial success. "Every nation," as Lord Rosebery says, 
" wishes to be a nation of shopkeepers." This, indeed, is the 
commonest modem conception of the highest destiny of man, 
il^ia-H iroXmvoimfov, Bs a citizen performing citizen's duties. 


There are, of course, many variations on the theme, arising 
from the ever-increasing complexity of civilisation and growing 
social heterogeneity. Sometimes we are inclined to apply the 
standard of military fitness, sometimes the capacity to con- 
tribute to the progress of laboratorial science, sometimes the 
ability to speak foreign languages, all such measures taking 
account, not of a man's fullest capacity, but of what are, after 
all, only technical and special functions. Every one of these re- 
acts on education. Yet the best work is done by ignoring them. 
The double-headed difficulty has thus one neck : a desire 
for measurable material results. It has on its side all the 
conservative forces, noble as weU as ignoble, which prevent 
men both from despising existing institutions and from 
using them to evolve institutions of higher morality. It 
embodies an opinion as unsound as the belief, universal 
before Adam Smith, which is expressed in Bacon's round 
assertion that the " increase," that is, prosperity, of every State 
must be at the expense of other States. It contradicts the 
great generalisations, explicit in the ancient formula that *^ all 
things move," and the great modem discovery that all things 
move from lower forms to higher. It is in flat antagonism to 
the teaching of Christ, who declared God's kingdom to be not 
of this world. For, as Renan says of him : 

R^publicain austere, patriote z616, il n'eiit pas arr^t^ le grand courant 
des affaires de son si^cle [if he had conspired against Tiberius at Rome, &c.] 
tandis^ qu'en declarant la politique insignifiante^ il a r^vel6 au monde cette 
v^rit6 que la patrie n'est pas tout^ et que Thomme est ant^rieur et superieur 
au citoyen. 

We must make up our minds that education is concerned 
only incidentally with the narrow field of production, and keeps 
its eye not so much on fitting men into existing institutions as 
on fitting men to make existing institutions better, and getting 
the best out of them. 

That is, education must concern itself chiefly with the 
largest number of things that men do, with the area of action 


and conduct. These are the things that matter most If we 
look merely to a man's specific and technical ftmctions, we are 
looking at life and its duties in a mean way, in a superficial 
way, perhaps even a vicious way. When, for instance, a 
modem publicist writes that '* the State should spend money 
on education that may prove when acquired practically useful," 
and subsequently shows that what he means is that nothing 
should be taught under State patronage by which it or the 
individual does not " benefit in the fight for material welfare," 
he would have us strive for an ignoble end by ignoble means. 
The view of life as a scrambling " fight " for bread and shelter 
is both false in perspective and sordid in circumstance. " We 
are a busy people," said a Yankee captain to Martin Chuzzlewit, 
" and have no time for reading mere notions. We don't mind 
'em if they come to us in newspapers along with almighty 
strong stuff of another sort, but dam your books." Nobler 
philosophers than the Yankee captain have failed to distinguish 
between the permanent and the temporary, between the greater 
and the less, between action and production, between the real 
whole of life and the means by which we gain a livelihood ; and 
yet the distinction is absolutely indispensable as a guide in 
education. It is character that affects the largest area of our 
life. The good and intelligent schoolmaster habitually subor- 
dinates the minor standards when they conflict with this, using 
as means what other and less disinterested people use as ends. 
He acts as if he knew that his chief business is to set up a 
disposition ; that this is the true Kingdom of God ; and if not 
the goal to which man tends, at all events the high road leading 
to the goal. 

What are the studies or gymnastics that most affect our 
" dispositions," our conduct and characters ? Surely, since man 
is over and above all other things a social animal, there will be, 
in the first place, those studies or gymnastics which give him 
the liveUest sympathies with humanity, with his fellows, alive 
and dead — these will be the most truly human. The studies 
which cover the most general ground affecting our relations 


with each other, our power of sympathising, are the " human- 
ities/' comprised under the main heads Literature and History. 
Literature is so all-pervading that its operation begins with the 
nursery, and its power increases with every day we live. It is 
exactly commensiu'ate with life. It is life. It is life as seen 
and represented by others, different from us or greater than we 
are. It deals, in its very highest form, with primitive and 
unchanging facts of feeling and experience that are true for all 
of us. Even when we shall be able to go from London to 
Mantua in an air-car within half a day, the Aeneid wiU still 
be supremely true and significant; though we know that 
Bohemia has no sea-coast, and that there are no serpents or 
tigers in the forest of Arden, we find in Shakespeare "a higher 
truth and higher seriousness'' than in our geographies and 

And after the " humanities," technically so called, we must 
have another line of our basis in first-hand experience of 
physical nature ; that is, in that part of the world which is not 
in intelligent communion with us. We must know by personal 
contact the earth, the wind, and the rain, and the sunlight, 
the animals and the flowers and the trees about us. These 
two great themes, in fact, have actuaUy always been the staple 
of education. Speaking roughly, up to Bacon's time there was 
no other conception of education beyond instruction in the 
humane arts ; the discipline derived from physical nature was 
inevitable, unrecognised, unorganised, and unconscious, though 
infinitely true and more effective than it is with a city-cramped 
and sophisticated population like so much of ours. 

The situation will, therefore, be clearer to us if we note 
briefly the revolution in education of which the herald, if not 
the pioneer, was Bacon. In pre-Baconian days school educa- 
tion was almost exclusively confined to the "Arts." The 
distinction between "Arts" and "Sciences," based on bad 
logic and imperfect knowledge, survives to our own day, and 
still darkens the counsels of those who use words as coins 
instead of counters. When the distinction was first drawn. 


" Artes " meant the things you could do and " Scientise " the 
things you knew. So on the side of mental education, by 
virtue of yoxu* knowledge of the Arts of Logic, Rhetoric, 
Mathematics, Law, Languages, and so forth, you could solve 
problems and engage in disputations and, yoiu* degree in *^ Arts" 
certified that you had gone through such a course of study as 
would enable you to do these things. But the " Scientiae '* were 
learnt from books or by the interrogation of tradition, and led 
to nothing " practical," to new discovery least of all. 

To most of us, with our modem notions, it is the ** Sciences " 
that suggest the most strenuous work, the patient investigator, 
his test-tubes, his balances, his microscope, his costly laboratory, 
and the rest " Science " would seem to be far more " prac- 
tical" than what we call, at all events academically, "Arts," 
both in procedure and in product; nay, some critics would 
have us believe that all the activity has passed to the " Sciences," 
and that the academical "Arts" merely potter about in a 
welter of antiquarian or insignificant rubbish. 

Now, first of all, the old distinction between Arts and 
Sciences is thoroughly obsolete; it has become a distinction 
without a difference. Every subject that can be investigated 
may be quite fairly called a Science, and any scheme of action 
which tends to a recognised end may be called an Art. But 
there are some sciences that lend themselves better than others 
to laboratorial investigation, to dexterous and complex sensuous 
manipulation, and that are still adding to man's dominion over 
unintelligent matter. The science of philology, though as 
" heuristic " as you like (and it has been conspicuously so since 
the recognition of the importance of Sanskrit), does not lend 
itself so easily to this kind of treatment, and certainly does not 
add to our dominion over matter, as does (say) chemistry. 
While, therefore, it is admirable as a discipline, it has not the 
attractiveness, and does not ofier such prize-potentialities, as 
the sciences of the laboratory. Again, the discoveries of the 
laboratory have been in later generations so stupendous that 
they have become part of the mental and even spiritual 


furniture of the race, so that they cannot be ignored in a 
scheme of education that is to make life significant to us in its 
widest aspects. Metaphysics itself has renewed its youth by 
appropriating the lessons and adopting the formula? of great 
physical discovery. 

Therefore the physical or (rather) the laboratorial sciences 
have a claim on us which tliey had not when " scientia ^ was 
deductive. We must recognise the immense meaning of these 
great physical discoveries; the "educated" man must know 
them, if only on human grounds, to bring him into intelligent 
sjrmpathy with his fellows. But there is nothing new in the 
so-called " heuristic " method ; what is new is its tardy school 
application to phenomena other than those found in books 
or tradition. The new "scientist" uses no logical method 
unfamiliar to the old scholar, but he applies his method to 
more refractory material and with coarser and more cumber- 
some instruments. "Science" teaching begins to show signs 
of a conscience, and to recognise that it must fully justify itself 
as a gymnastic. It has no right, all the same, to claim a 
monopoly of " method." 

But, in truth, it is time to drop unprofitable distinctions. 
We must not try to spht straws between Arts and Sciences, 
or Humanities and Sciences, or studies Speculative and Applied. 
We must try to construct an educational pyramid of sciences, 
the more general gradually contracting to the specific and 
technical And we must guard against two possible errors : 
we must not forget that in many details our p3rramid is to be 
provisional from generation to generation, in order to make 
allowances for new orientations of organised knowledge ; and 
we must be careful not to propound as the first stage in 
education the last results of our analysis of the field of know- 
ledge. "General" here must mean that which covers, and 
always must cover, the largest area of human interest. 

We have no right to split up our investigation of nature, 
the study of the world and of man, into regions, and to say 
that this region is more important than that. We have no 



more right to divide the Kingdom of Knowledge into mutually 
exclusive " subjects " than we have to divide the mind into 
faculties. The objective organic unity of the world is co- 
relative to the organic unity of the mind. 

Every act of knowledge, or " apperception," as it is some- 
times called, is an act setting up a connection between an 
organised world and an organised mind. Every part of the 
world is concerned with every part of the mind in every 
intellectual act, and the more completely the mind is thereby 
put into organic connection with the world the more complete 
the state of knowledge resulting. 

The common trick of giving legal or formal recognition in 
our school curricula first to one " subject " and then to another, 
and treating them as unrelated, for impartial distribution in 
the school, results in mere patchwork and muddle. The effect 
is that produced by the famous African monarch to whom an 
English admiral had presented a suit of dress clothes as a 
compendium of civiUsation. His Majesty, we are told, did not 
don the whole suit himself, but, keeping the coat, gave the 
waistcoat to his Prime Minister, and divided the remaining 
garment between the head of the War Office and the Minister 
of Public Instruction ! 

We must build our p3a^mid of studies with special refer- 
ence to three main considerations : first, the ultimate aim of 
Life ; secondly, the growth of the individual Mind ; thirdly, 
the urgency of Social Pressure. The first calls upon us to 
settle what things matter most in life, and to subordinate 
smaller things to them ; the second requires that we should 
ascertain the progressive capacity of the mind for profitable 
cultivation to practical ends at various stages, which will pro- 
bably be found to be from the general to the technical ; and 
the third will compel us to consider individual needs in relation 
to existing institutions. 

What things matter most ? Obviously, in accordance with 
what we have already admitted, such things as affect the 
largest practical area. Nothing is so important as that we 


should deal magrmnimously xvitk life. In the sphere of morals 
or religion this requires that we should act as we wish all 
other people to act. Our little act then becomes, though we 
know it not, part of the great pivot of righteousness on which 
the world turns. In the sphere of what we call literature, by 
the help of great men — artists who " lend their minds out " to 
us — we see life, the world, in a great way ; see more signifi- 
cance in it than if we were left to interpret it for ourselves. 
Thus we actually get life into truer perspective, see more of it, 
when we learn to see it as Shakespeare and Milton saw it. 
Literature, then, " sacred " and " profane " (though we may not 
like the distinction) must be the basis of our educational 
pyramid, for literature records human experience and stimu- 
lates human sympathy to conduct over the largest area of life. 
Under this great main head, of coiu^e, come other subsidiary 
studies. Thus, whereas " pure " literature, as belles lettres, 
enables us to see and to live individual experience in a great 
way, on a big scale, so history, as a pageant, dealing with 
the life of nations, puts us into relation with the life of 
societies on a big scale. Belles lettres gives us sympathy and 
power of interpretation as between man and man : history gives 
us atmosphere and perspective, as between man and successive 
generations, as between societies and societies. 

Another necessary base-line of our pyramid must come, 
as we have said, from first-hand familiarity with the simple 
phenomena of " outer " or unintelligent " nature," the external 
forces to which we are exposed, and the things with minds 
unlike our own — ^the soil, the wind, the rain, the birds, the 
animals. For most of us live many removes away from the 
primitive realities on which our life depends; and, as we 
develop a more complex and abstract civilisation, it becomes 
more and more necessary that our organised education should 
do what it can to re-establish the broken connections. Hebrew 
boys, Greek and Roman boys, went about with their fathers, 
meeting the soil and sky at first hand, as Hans Clodhopper 
does to-day, sharing in the actual life lived and seeing its 


simplest springs. Our social and intellectual habits do a 
great deal deliberately to conceal these primitive facts ; and 
even when, in the artificial atmosphere of our schools, we 
address ourselves to " teach " literature and history and earth- 
knowledge, we at once make them abstract by philology, by 
discussions on such things as the constitution and the tax- 
gatherer, by an excessive use of the scale and test-tube and 
microscope. We rarely get to real business. 

The third great side of our pyramid-base is the group 
of studies comprised under the term Mathematics, which 
conditions and fixes so many of the details of life from the very 
beginnings, and is so necessary a discipline of the capacity to 
draw inferences. Here, too, our common procedure leads us 
to the artificial divorce and conventional separation of different 
aspects of the same subject, making us treat arithmetic, 
geometry, and algebra as if they were mutually exclusive and 
were not best treated, wherever possible, to strengthen one 
another. Here, too, our procedure is excessively analytical 

The first stage of all the studies here enumerated is 
necessarily more general and less definite than succeeding 
stages. At first we desire to enlarge capacity, to give our 
pupils a certain general acquaintance with things which later 
work will articulate for them, so that they may master the 
parts as well as the wholes and learn to make specific applica- 
tions of them to definite needs. Thus, at first our pupils are 
to be made acquainted with literature — in how many languages 
matters not at all — not as grammar, but as stuff^^ from which 
grammar may, later on, be abstracted. Mathematics they 
should learn slowly and by the help of concretes, until at a 
later stage they may be gradually led to dispense with concrete 
presentments and argue more and more in vacuo. 

Physical science will become more abstract and specific, 
and will be pursued, in the laboratory, more minutely than 
heretofore. History gradually narrows itself into a regular 
study of separate nationalities, and of questions, such, for 
instance, as turn upon constitutional points of a more abstract 


character. It may be said that this still leaves burning^ 
questions untouched ; that we are all agreed on the necessity 
of literature with history, and mathematics, and physical 
science, as subjects of school study and early intellectual 
discipline ; that indeed these things are actually taught. But 
what of the question as to Classics, as to Modem Languages, 
and as to both of these against Physical Science ? 

The solution of all such problems is explicit in what has 
already been said. The fact is that, though we have the names 
on our time tables, we do not always, we are not allowed to, 
teach them. What we teach is mostly conventional matter^ 
settled for us very largely by the devisers of examinations, who 
are often only nominally concerned and acquainted with the 
real practice of education. 

We cannot teach English Literature because it is parti- 
cularly difficult to set an examination paper in Literature. 
What we can do is ask questions about something which (say) 
Milton or Shakespeare wrote about. This is a rather poor sort 
of " science " ; all the poorer because the minutely annotated 
text leaves nothing for the pupil to find^out for himself. We 
do not teach Latin and Greek Uterature because very few of 
our pupils ever arrive at the power of reading with decent 
ease a simple page of Latin or Greek prose or verse; what 
we teach is mostly the beggarly elements of grammar and 
syntax; and these we could teach better by other means, 
which would also stock our pupils with more pregnant, 
significant, and comprehensive material. We do not teach 
Science, which, if it is anything, is a Method of Discovery ; 
we teach ill-concatenated facts clinched by bad logic on a few 
unanalysed demonstrations improperly called "experiments." 
Perhaps the " heuristic " procedure, if we have time for it, 
will cure all that. Mathematics are often excellently taught, 
especially in the primary schools, and in this region there is 
much less convention, and more satisfactory work done where 
it is encouraged, than in any other school subject. But it 
is still often conventional, examination papers asking too 


frequently for a multitude of rapid processes rather than 
evidence of power of concentrated and logical thought. And 
as for literature in foreign tongues, what procedure could be 
more conventional than the examination of spoken tongues on 
paper without speech ? 

It is this that gives such point to the complaint that so 
little seems to come of our toil and labour in the class-room. 
Is it not true, as Mark Pattison said, that " of all the practical 
arts, that of education seems the most cumbrous in its method, 
and to be productive of the smallest results with the most 
lavish expenditure of means ? " We are overwhelmed by con- 
ventional machinery. 

Let us look at it again. Instead of teaching English 
Literature (out of annotated editions) and Classics (in the 
majority of cases by means of grammar and delectus alone), 
and Modem Languages (without real speech or with the merest 
pretence of speaking) we ought surely to teach literature and 
languages as two sides of the same thing ; and we ought to use 
all three branches — English, Classics, and Foreign Literature — 
in accordance with the time at our disposal in regard to the 
different school careers for different classes of pupils. And 
this with one most important condition. We must throughout 
recognise speech^ and not its articulations and abstractions, to 
be the basis and unit of oiu* work in all teaching of literature 
and language. Thus, in English, everything should be sub- 
sidiary and subsequent to an acquaintance with the text as a 
whole ; grammar and antiquarianism and the whole apparatus 
criticus should be held in reserve till this is achieved. Again, 
in Classics, we should get into narrative as soon as we can, and, 
indeed, approximate as nearly as possible to the most intelli- 
gent methods of teaching a Uving and spoken language. After 
aU, the significant fact about Latin and Greek is that they 
were speech, not that they are " dead." Consecutive matter 
should and can be tackled from the very first ; but then, of 
course, we should begin our Latin and Greek much later than 
is our present practice. If we did, more of our pupils would 


** know " their Classics and know them better, while the rest^ 
who never come really £eu^ to face with Latin and Greek, 
would have a better chance with other things. In modem 
languages, with the time thus saved, it would be perfectly easy 
to give a substantial number of boys and girls a first-hand 
working acquaintance with the real matter, with speech, if we 
left the grammar and its exercises in the second place, and 
prescribed copious reading and free reproduction, with a 
minimum of ** translaticm,'' £rom the first. In the teaching of 
Physical Science, again, we ought not to be bullied by special- 
ists into pretending to believe that those are the best pupils 
who **know" most specific sciences, or can perform the greatest 
number of prescribed *' experiments " without being able to 
make a single step for themselves and without a glimmering of 
the general logical significance of what they are doing. 
** Science " should acquire more and more of the old connota- 
tion of '' Art '' ; it should be a certificate of competence to do. 

What, in fact, we chiefly need is, first, a really scientific, 
that is, a common-sense, view of our general aims. This will 
lead us, in the second place, to resolve to teach with an eye on 
our pupils and not merely on the work they turn out ; our 
teaching will be organic ; more will be taught under fewer 
heads on the time-table. And, thirdly, we shall see that it is 
of prime importance to deconventionalise our examinations — 
to contrive that the pupil, and not his work, should be the main 
solicitude of the testing authorities. To do this we must have 
examination, if not conducted, as it should be, in part by the 
teacher, at all events conducted by bodies really interested in 
education as such, and not as a means to a narrow and often 
insignificant end ; by bodies acquainted at first hand with the 
real processes and problems of teaching. 

Our curriculum is good enough ; our manipulation of it 
makes it ftitile and barren. 


The Heritage of Unrest. By Gwendolen Overton. 
(Macmillan Co. New York. 6*.) — The Americans have by 
this time a considerable past, and their writers are showing 
that they know how to use it Miss Overton's book is a 
thoroughly good story of the straightforward kind, AiU of 
natural characters moving naturally ; but it is also a study in 
heredity, and in the working of feelings which can only be 
found in a society where white races are in close contact with 
those of another colour. Felipa, the heroine of this tale, is the 
child of a white father and an Indian mother ; and this taint of 
wild blood is the heritage which makes the tragedy. It is 
impossible, it would seem — we need no more proof than this 
story itself gives — for such a life to end happily ; beauty and 
savagery raised to this power are no longer tolerable even in 
the Western States. No one really liked Felipa, though all 
admired her and many were in love with her. She realised 
the situation without understanding how it came about. 

There had been an afternoon in Washington when^ on her road to some 
reception of a half-official kind^ she had crossed the opening of an alley-way and 
had come upon three boys who were torturing a small blind kitten^ and almost 
without knowing what she did^ because her maternal grandfather had done to 
the children of his enemies as the young civilised savages were doing to the 
kitten there^ the stopped and watched them^ not enjoying the sight perhaps, 
but not recoiling from it either. So intent had she been that she had not 
heard footsteps crossing the street towards her, and had not known that 
some one stopped beside her with an exclamation of wrath and dismay. 


She had been sufficientlj ashamed of herself thereafter, and totally unable 
to understand her own evil impulse. 

The success of the authoress in convincing the readers of 
Felipa's real power of attraction and barbarous innocence is 
the triumph of the book ; but it also contains several excellent 
studies of men and their relations to each other, as well as 
some capital fighting. 

The Column. By Charles Marriott (Lane. 6s.) — 
When you are certainly destined to meet a man sooner or 
later, and to meet him often, it is as well to take the first intro- 
duction that offers. " The Column " is by no means a great 
work, but it is the work of a man who will certainly be heard 
of again. Some readers, toiling through the laborious epigrams 
and subtleties of the first ten chapters, will doubt this ; but if 
they persevere as far as chapter xii. they will find that a dual 
authorship has deceived them; much of the book is by a 
pseudo-Meredith with a Carnaby strain in him, but it was a 
different hand that drew the sculptor Cathcart He is both 
real and admirable : so real that the present tense belongs to 
him naturally. 

Cathcart's work, if it can be assigned to any school, belongs to that of 
which the best known examples are the paintings of J. F. Millet. Both men 
betraj in 'their work the same acute sympathy with the worn hands, the 
inarticulate voice of labour ; though, by the accident of his material, the English 
sculptor is more suggestive while less explicit in detaiL 

Personally, Cathcart is '*a dusty man, with big sullen blue 
eyes," given to slang, fox-terriers, and ratting, but always with 
something big about him — " what in our Une we should call 
breadth." He appears twice only, but his theory of heredity 
and double personalities is the keynote of the whole book. 
Johnnie had drawn Daphne sitting by the column which her 
father had transplanted fi-om Greece to a cliff in Cornwall. 
Cathcart shook his head. 

** I don't think you know her very well," he stud. " Daphne wasn't really 
sittmg here ; she was away back where she belongs. We all belong some- 


where^ you know^ and keep a sort of dummy to knock about and pretend. I'll 
show you where Daphne belongs if you like." 

Then he draws her with charcoal — " thumb uppermost, like a 
foil, whipping the paper at thoughtful intervals as one delivering 
calculated blows/' and talked between. 

Some of us belong up trees and shy cocoanuts — or chew bones in a cave ; 
and the dummy spreads himself at a club and talks culture. I've seen dunmiies 
mincing it down St James's Street whose owners were jabbing each other with 
flint knives in the Stone Age. Same moment too, mind you. We chaps who 
paint, or juggle with mud and marble, see past the dunmiies sometimes. Then 
people call us brutal, and the nice young gentlemen knock up brand-new 
adjectives to sling at us. 

Daphne turned out eventually to be *' sitting on a curious 
three-legged seat, on a rocL" 

Some people, you know, are always trying to get back where they belong. 
. . . That's why he stuck up the column and planted the laurels. Finger- 
posts — d'you see ? — just to get the mood. We all do it. Some use 'baccy, 
some beer, some worse. Now your Dan^e has got back very near where she 
belongs ; and that's why you've dral^rner with blank eyeballs, just because 
you're one of the chaps who see past the dummy. It won't make you happy, 
my son, but it's worth it, oh Lord, yes ! it's worth it. 

Of the rest of the book the reader will not remember much ; 
but he will look forward to its successor. 

At Bath we are never far from the days of Queen Anne. 
An exquisite waft of gaiety, as if laughter had been stirred by 
the caress of a feather, flatters him who pursues the fortunes of 
Monsieur Beaucaire — (by Booth Tarkington. Murray. 
2^. 6d. net) — at the moment when '' a small, fair gentleman 
in white satin " comes out upon the steps and hands down Lady 
Mary Carlisle, ''an achievement which had figured in the 
ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening." 
Was he a duke ? Was he a barber ? Far be it from us to 
betray the secret 1 "Believe me," said Molyneux (who saw 
him fight single-handed against a troop of horse) ''he's no 
barber I No, and never was I " But the great-grandfather of 

No. 9. in. 3.— Junk 1901 a 



Mr. Molyneux was French. Other gallants thought otherwise 
— ladies also. "And live men are just — names f^* said 
Monsieur Beaucaire, in whose country there lived a philosopher 
*' who says strange things of that — ^that a man is not his father, 
but himself'' He was capable of asking " What's in a name ? '' 
was Monsieur Beaucaire. Ah, in this medisvalised world of 
ours only Komeos, Juliets, and Jean-Jacques Rousseaus 
honestly think there is nothing! Lady Mary was of the 
opinion of many Lady Marys now ; she believed there was 
much. She was a lady first, a woman afterwards — ^to her cost. 

From the other end of Romance — ^though it is well within 
the borders of that enchanted land — comes The Plea of Pan 
— (by Henry Nevinson. Murray. 5*. net) — ^bearing with it 
something of the rare fragrance of " Eothen," of " Euphranor," 
of "Walden," of "Prince Otto," of "Pagan Papers"— of a 
work so immeasurably above all these that we hesitate to name 
the writer, though we do not think all readers will hesitate. 
Some men will be indifferent. " Queer book 1 " they will say, 
and never give it a second thought A queer book it is, 
undeniably. Here and there a woman will be distressed. 
Pan was not — ^he never could be — a Christian. The scholar 
— the dreamer — ^the Shakespearean — ^will buy it instantly, will 
carry it away to moor and forest, will refuse to lend it even to 
the friend of his bosom. It will not make him laugh, but it 
will keep him smiling all day long. It will not sit still to be 
described ; to tear extracts out would be ruthless. The gift of 
seeing what others do not see is genius, says the lord of living 
genii. That gift the author has. 

Le Silence. Par Edouard Rod. (Librairie Acad^mique : 
Perrin et Cie. 8/r. 50c.) — M. Rod is alwajns worth reading. 
The volume before us contains two short stories, each of them 
preceded by the conversation which evoked it The stories are 
records of myisterious and silent passion; the conversations 
touch on many well-known themes. The moralities of love. 


the worth of conventions^ the possible whiteness of lies, are 
problems that cannot be solved in any smoking-room, or, indeed, 
in any comer of our bewildering little planet. And, to do 
M. Rod justice, he does not pretend to solve them ; he spreads 
them out, he regards them gently, he follows them with 
philanthropic emotion; he leads us and his characters into a 
labjrrinth, and when, after much walking, we are in the middle 
of it, he holds out his hand and proffers us — ^not a clue, but his 
pity. And his pity, we often feel, has an Evangelical note in 
it M. Rod is Swiss, and if he clearly shows a reaction against 
Genevan traditions, there is also something Genevan about the 
solemnity of the reaction. 

Yet his men and women interest us. They are in the same 
walk of life as most of us and lead the life of ordinary pro- 
fessional people. The first tale deals with, or rather suggests, 
the relations between two noble-minded persons, who love one 
another too late, when a husband already stands between them. 
They remain true to their duty. No Trappists could more 
faithftilly practise the austerities of silence and abnegation; 
and the picture of the man when he hears casually, at a dinner- 
party, of the woman's death — ^the description of him after- 
wards, wandering blind and half-conscious through Paris, while 
the muffling snow falls thick upon him, show the author at his 

No one will dispute that M. Rod is sympathetic. He is 
even too sympathetic. In his effort to show that a literal 
untruth may hold a deeper truth of feeling ; that passion may 
give scope for the sternest self-sacrifice, he grows rather unfair. 
He forgets that it is possible to be as moral within wedlock as 
outside it. There have been devoted husbands and wives from 
the days of Alcestis downwards, and sometimes it even happens 
that people who love each other marry. But M. Rod is a 
philanthropist, and his foibles are the foibles of benevolence. 

Lettres a la FianceCi 1820-22. By Victor Hugo. 
(Paris : Biblioth^ue Charpentier. 8/r. 50c.) — There are love- 


letters and love-letters. Those from men of genius, or else 
from the humble and obscure, generally have the merit of 
being spontaneous ; those written by the second-rate literary 
are often composed with an eye round the comer. The letters 
from Victor Hugo to his AdMe belong to the " men of genius " 
category. From first to last they are a splendid outburst of 
youth — ^a poet's youth, full of sunshine and storm, and of power 
to express its love beautifully. Hugo's romance began i^hen 
he was seventeen and Ad^le Foucher sixteen, and it was three 
years and a half before he married her. His mother was 
surprised at his docility in accompanying her every evening on 
her after-dinner visit to M. and Madame Foucher. It did not 
seem very amusing for a young man. M. Foucher did not 
like conversation, so the ladies sat in silence with their reticules 
and their work, and Victor watched his goddess sew. Presently 
there came assignations in the garden, then tempests in the 
house and separation; next his mother's death, his want of 
means, his growing fame, his final success with Ad^le's 
parents, and his marriage. A common enough story, but he was 
not a common lover. His letters glow with honesty and with a 
noble tenderness. He had the self-confidence of genius, and 
refused to give up poetry and poverty for an appointment at 
the French Embassy in London, offered to him by Chateau- 
briand. ** Po^sie oblige " might have been his motto, and his 
letter on poetry is one of his finest. So is another on the 
nature of love, of which no view could be more spiritual than 
his. The thought of his lady, he sa3rs, kept him proof against 
all evil. His Addle was much like other Addles. Besides 
being a divine angel with a pure brow (what French poet's love 
has not had that sort of brow ?) she was rather a mediocre little 
bourgeoise who wrote short letters, was afraid of what people 
thought of her, and said that passion was '' de trop." ** Tai 
une grande faculty dans Tftme, celle d'aimer," he wrote to her 
" . . . Je t'envie quelquefois d'etre aim^ comme je t'aime." In 
the end his unselfish love won the day. It widened and 
ennobled her till he almost raised her to his level, and she 


might have said with him : '* Quand on n'a pour pens^ unique 
qu'une ^temit^ d'amour et de honheur, on voit toutes les choses 
de la terre de si haut quelles semblent bien petites." 

The author of Bolingbroke and His Times — (by Walter 
Sichel. Nisbet&Co, 12^. 6dnet.) — ^writes as though every one 
else were at least half as familiar with the reign of Queen Anne 
as he is himself, and his book has the qualities and the defects 
of this method. It is not simple nor clear enough in style to 
guide the ignorant through the maze of intrigue and counter- 
intrigue; but historians will find it valuable. It is fiill of 
learning and research, full of quotations chosen with brilliant 
certainty of their effect. It deals with a period of confusion 
bewildering enough to have terrified any but a determined 

These fifty-three years may be said to have witnessed four successive 
Englands^ yet a single man might easily have outlived them all. David 
Mispler^ whose tomb is in Barnes Churchyard^ was waterman to Charles 11.^ 
James 11.^ King William^ Queen Anne^ and George I. 

The Bishop of Ely " maintained that the Hebrews were called 
Israelites * because God ever hated Jacobites.'" From the 
Queen, gnawing her fan when she was doubtful how to reply, 
to Bolingbroke, who writes '* I am like a man on a chess- 
board " ; no one knew his or her own mind for two minutes 
together. Self-interest marred all; wit ruled instead of 
wisdom. Mrs. Henrietta Tofts made thirty guineas one night 
by selling her kisses, a guinea apiece, at the Duke of Somerset's 

There is a niece of Lord Portland's in Holland [writes the '' infenit affek- 
shenit " mother of Lord Raby]^ a handsom young woman worth thirty or more 
thousand pound. I wish you had her. If you was manyed, although I leved 
twenty milse of you, yet it would be an unspeakable happiness to pore me, for 
sartainly I should never desier to liv with a daughter-in-law, for although 
themselves ar never soe good, yet sum tattling sarvents or acquantenc will 
put jealosies in their head to breed discontents. 

Spite of all this, there were great writers and fighters — ^there 
was gay good fellowship. 


I believe the world has used me as scorvilj as most people [says Bolin^- 
broke]^ and yet I could never find in my heart to be thoroughly angry with 
the simple, false, capricious thing. 

Who can wonder at the spell he has thrown over his apologist ? 
We may agree or not agree as we listen to the special pleading^* 
The man himself charms us too — ^all the more for that fine bit 
of special pleading, his portrait in the frontispiece. 

The Love-letters of Prince Bismarck. Edited by 
Prince Herbert Bismarck. In 2 vols. (Heinemann. 1901. 
21*. net.) — A better title would have been " Bismarck^s Letters 
to his Wife." They are, it is true, love-letters, such as loving 
husbands write, but half the first volume contains all the letters 
written before the marriage in 1847 ; letters which are fiiU of 
misgivings, approaches and retreats, self-questionings, reticences 
and susceptibilities ; the man holding the woman firmly and 
sure of himself, but conscious that he may not always be 
sufficiently tender or considerate ; she, as one may guess firom 
his answers, inclined to value her precious gift to him, to be 
exacting and to blame herself for being exacting, and him for 
not being more attentive ; in short, the common language of 
lovers who have nothing but themselves to write about, inter- 
esting to their children and firiends, but not meant for the 
public ; and to the public only interesting because such letters 
open another window into the chamber of natural afiection, and 
remind us how many millions of good people are writing this 
language to each other every day. The domestic vein, with 
all the details belonging to it, absence and hopes of meeting, 
change of lodgings, cost of living, births, illnesses and re- 
coveries of children, criticisms of relations and fiiends, runs 
through the whole book. It should be read side by side with 
a biography ; for the allusions to public affairs are mdy inci- 
dental, such as a statesman in high place would write to a 
wife who is neither a politician nor a great lady, but is 
interested in all that her husband does. 

These letters show the softer side of Bismarck's character ; 


they also show the homelier side. We see only by glimpses 
that he is in the heart of affairs, driving, dining, and talking 
with kings and emperors, giving orders to nunisters, generals 
and ambassadors, fighting republicans and socialists in Parlia- 
ment, playing the game in which crowns and provinces are the 
stakes. To Frau von Bismarck he writes about croup, wet 
niirses, house-rent, sausages and beer, the cost of postage, beds, 
bugs, cold rooms, schnapps and schnupfen. 

Three points come out most clearly, all interesting in view 
of his character. We have known him as the man of vast ideas 
and invincible resolution from his action on the great page of 
history; from the sordid volumes of Busch ; as the supreme man 
of business, thorough-going, indefatigable, unscrupulous, t3nran- 
nical, sparing neither himself nor his slaves. Here he appears 
as an affectionate husband, father and friend, a man with a 
strong and sincere religious feeling, one who believed in prayer 
and the offices of the Church and read the Bible regularly, a 
faith which, however, did not prevent him from fighting a duel 
with a clear conscience, and after '* seeking " God with a friend 
for an hour, nor from taking his own line in European politics. 

Gott weiss viel, 

doch mehr der Herr Professor^ 
Gott weiss allesj 

doch Er alles besser^ 

may have been his view of such matters ; and in the third 
place a lover and observer of country sights and sounds, with 
a keen eye for scenery, and a happy poetical touch in describing 
it. To be sometimes sentimental is his heritage as a German^ 
whether Imperialist, Prussian or Pomeranian; but his senti- 
ment is always sincere and manly. 

On the whole, these letters throw light upon the homely, 
human side of the great man's character ; and we should never 
guess from their evidence that they were written by the man 
of blood and iron. We welcome the revelation ; but no 
publication of correspondence can make Prince Bismarck an 
amiable character. 


The Francis Letters. Edited by Beata Francis and 
Eliza Keary. (Hutchinson & Co. Two vols. 24*. net.) — ^The 
Francis family had the praiseworthy habit — ^which, however, 
might easily be abused were it not the rule in most families 
to destroy everything — of preserving all letters, whether 
marked " To be burnt " or not The result is that the reader 
of these volumes finds himself admitted to the intimate 
concerns of a large, capable, witty, ambitious, and worldly 
family during a period which extends over sixty years. Play 
(a coup of £20,000 at whist on one occasion), racing, excessive 
eating and drinking, the usual censures on other people's 
extravagance, dress, ridottos, routs and balls, house-hunting, 
marriages, illnesses, quarrels, and Court life make up the staple 
of the record. We do not form a high conception of the 
Francis family and their aims in life, nor of their mutual 
amiability. But there is much selfish good-nature and affec- 
tion, and a great deal of gaiety and enjoyment of life. Philip 
Francis and his wife seem to have quarrelled and grumbled and 
loved one another without much sentiment ; their affection was 
evidently chilled by his seven years absence in India, and (though 
no allusion is made to this in the letters) by his intrigue with 
Madame Grand, afterwards the wife of Talleyrand. Francis 
had an inveterate habit of sending his wife presents of plain 
muslin when she wanted sprigged — how gladly the Catherine 
Morlands of to-day would accept either, if muslin of that 
quality were now to be had I — and strings of pearls when she 
would have preferred a draft upon his bankers; reasonably 
enough, ibince out of an income of £10,000 he made yearly 
remittances of £6000 to his agent in London, and allowed his 
wife only about £800 a year. Nothing appears to have 
checked the flow of Francis's high spirits, though he writes 
bitterly enough of his difficulties in India and his dishke of 
the country. The picture of life in India is interesting ; so is 
the account of Francis's quarrel with Warren Hastings, ending 
with the duel in which he was wounded. His great dis- 
appointment in life was in being passed over when a successor 


to Warren Hastings was to be appointed. Towards the end 
of his long life, when he was meditating a second marriage at 
the age of seventy-four, he appears in the character of a rather 
absurd old beau, flirting with the Duchess of Devonshire and 
Lady Thanet, dining with the Prince Regent every day for 
weeks together, and " trying (as he says) to shut his eyes to 
everything but pastime/' 

We like some of the younger generation : especially the 
clever, sensible, warm-hearted Catherine, afterwards Mrs, 
George Cholmondeley ; and Eliza Johnson, the saucy step- 
daughter of Mary Francis, and afterwards the wife of the 
younger Philip Francis, is charming. 

A " note " prefixed to the letters gives a clear summary of 
the ** Junius '' question. The evidence may not be enough to 
hang a man ; but the " doubt " on which a jury might acquit 
is the equivalent of a moral certainty, clenched by Euclid's 
familiar argument, " For let it be any " one else. 

The Stall Plates of the Knights of the Order of the 
Garter, 1348-1485. By W. H. St. John Hope. (Constable, in 
eight parts, at 12^. dd. each net.) — There is a well-known story of 
a peer who praised the Garter because it was the only honour 

left in England with " no d d merit about it." A generation 

which has seen Lord Roberts elected to the Order will hardly 
take this view, but any one who compares the new with the 
old plates in the Stalls of St George's must agree that, on the 
artistic side, at any rate, all merit has disappeared from this 
fraternity. The modem knight disfigures his stall by an 
enormous plate of gaudy and tasteless appearance : the design 
is tame as a carriage panel and the colouring worthy of a biscuit 
tin. It is a pleasure to forget such things and turn to the 
fourteenth- and fifteenth-century plates, of which Mr. St. John 
Hope has reproduced nearly ninety in facsimile. The work is 
a splendid display of the art of colour-printing, and when 
complete will not only be fiiU of historic interest, but cannot 
fail to give an impulse to the revival of heraldic design : for the 


examples it supplies are drawn from work done when heraldry 
was still a living thing, not yet stunted by the rujes of the 
pedant nor spoiled by the hasty clutch of the vulgar and 
ambitious. To take an example at random : Plate xxxii. is 
the achievement of Sir Reginald Cobham, Lord Cobham of 
Sterborough, familiar to us as one of the three kmghts in 
whose charge the Black Prince fought at Cressy, and marshal 
of the host at Poitiers. He was also Admiral of the Fleet, 
and more than once an Ambassador; and he married a 
daughter of the Lord Berkeley. Yet all these splendours and 
associations are completely and perfectly commemorated by a 
small plate of the simplest possible design, and the scroll 
contains no title beyond his name, ** Sir Rejniald Cobeham." 
Almost as simple and even more beautiful and free in style is 
the plate of Gaston de Foix, Count de Longueville and 
Benanges, Captal de Buch, where the mantling, following the 
arms of Foix, is of gold with narrow stripes of red, lined with 
dark green and tasseUed green and gold. 

Mr. Hope supplies an introduction which is a model of 
care and compression ; and a page of description and identifi- 
cation faces each illustration. We caxmot imagine work 
of the kind better done. 




IT is regrettable that the Secretary of State for War, in 
disclosing to the House of Commons the scheme of Army 
Reform, incidentally made a proposal involving Admiralty 
action without the sanction of that Board, and presumably, 
without the authority of the Cabinet. If it was a bid by 
the War Office for Parliamentary and popular support to 
force the hand of the Admiralty it was mischievous. The 
reason for taking so unusual a course is, however, not so im- 
portant as the result Probably it will be found to be exactly 
the opposite of what Mr. Brodrick expected. The Admiralty 
and the naval service generally will always loyally carry out 
any policy laid down by Gk>vemment, but neither the 
Admiralty nor the admirals are likely to be conciliated by 
the attempt of a single Minister, representing a single depart- 
ment, to compel the navy to take over such of the coaling 
stations as the army no longer wishes to keep. The real 
issues involved by the proposal will not be made clearer by the 
blowing off of departmental steam in a rivalry of noise between 
Whitehall and Pall Mall. Where oil was needed, Mr. Brodrick 
has heedlessly cast in grit. 

The question, however, whether the Admiralty or the 
War Office should be responsible for the custody and control 


of ports purely naval in use and application involves something^ 
much more serious than "ink-slinging" between the two 
spending departments. It is one of high policy, embracing 
strategical, naval, military, and financial problems. Under the 
principles and practice of our constitution, the element of cost 
in the long run prevails. Now the more closely the question 
of garrisoning the coaling stations is examined by lynx-eyed 
Chancellors of the Exchequer, and Cabinets specially careful 
of public expenditure, the more probably will financial con- 
siderations turn the scale in favour of transferring them to the 
navy. The dangers, if any, of such a result to the efficiency 
or effective force of the navy, are not matters of Admiralty 
concern only, but are of vital importance to the empire at 
large. Anything done which hampers or impairs the sea-going 
eifective force of the British fleet is grave injury done to the 

Broadly speaking, the transfer fix>m the War Office to the 
Admiralty of the coaling stations is objected to by distinguished 
admirals — who rightly influence Admiralty policy — ^for two 
reasons : (1) That the increase of burden thus cast upon Navy 
Estimates by the necessary provision of such land-service as 
these ports may require might, and probably would, divert 
naval money from the sea-going fleet to the shore. This 
danger cannot be dismissed as imaginary because, when in 
obedience to popular sentiment. Chancellors of the Exchequer 
cut down Admiralty expenditiure, the reduction of the ship- 
building vote, or of the number of ships in commission, would 
be far easier than dismantling fixed defences, however moderate, 
and vacating them by dismissing the garrisons. It is, however, 
to be observed that this line of Admiralty objection could be, 
but never has been, adopted in the matter of the creation and 
maintenance of great harbours to provide for the shelter and 
security of the fleet. Dover, Gibraltar, and a whole host 
of other harbours are examples. The difference is not one 
of principle but of detail. The enormous cost of these 
harboiurs is provided for under Naval Works Acts, not out of 


annual Navy Estimates. The annual cost of upkeep of all 
these harbours, when completed, falls on Estimates. That is 
just as much a diversion of naval money fi*om ships to shore as 
the upkeep of such force as may be necessary to seciure them 
or to guard the entrances of a coaling port, and to protect the 
naval coal stores, &c., from being raided. The difference may 
be in degree, that is in relative cost in one case or in the other ; 
in principle there is really no difference as far as money is 
concerned, but there is in the appropriation of men. To the 
question of men I will presently refer. 

(2) The other main objection raised to the Admiralty 
taking over the coaling stations is this: It implies an 
enlargement of the field of Admiralty administration, and the 
consequent increase of that establishment for a purpose only 
indirectly connected with the business of the Board, viz., the 
provision and control of the sea-going fleet. This, it is urged, 
would involve a permanent increase in the cost of naval 
administration, incapable of much variation. The importance 
of this objection is, however, relative to the actual additional 
cost involved, and may not, on examination, prove to be so 
great as some admirals imagine. 

It may fittingly be noticed here that naval bases at home 
need not be considered as within the range of the present 
discussion. To the navy they are of primary importance, but 
they are also great commercial towns and natural military 
centres. The existence of the navy now depends upon them. 
The resources of these naval bases originate in their hinter- 
lands, which comprise the whole area of Great Britain. They 
are not dependent on sea conmiunications for ability to create, 
repair, and maintain the fleet. Prom any point of view their 
relation to the fleet differs totally from that of Hong Kong, 
Bermuda, &c., where everything in the shape of materials, 
repairing plant, and supplies must be brought by sea. Nor can 
home ports be compared with Sydney, Halifax, Esquimalt, 
or Simons Bay, until hinterlands of the latter are so developed 
as to produce supplies of raw materials, and their manu- 


facturing powers so increased as to render them, for naval 
purposes, wholly independent of intake by sea. Though 
Malta and Gibraltar are entirely dependent on the sea for 
ability to supply the wants of the fleet, they are also 
military places darmes on the road to our Indian frontier 
and the East, and therefore they cannot fairly be regarded 
only from a purely maritime point of view. 

For the reasons thus indicated, the questions under review 
should be limited to naval bases other than those at home or 
in the Mediterranean. In due time, if we pursue a wise 
Imperial policy, and devdop local ability to supply the 
requirements of the fleet, my reasons for placing certain 
colonial ports in a difierent category from those at home will 
gradually disappear. The process must necessarily in any case 
be slow, but unfortunately our policy at present shows no sign 
or symptom of a recognition of the expediency of beginning it. 
Port Arthur, Mare Island, Yokosuka, and Kure, &c., in the 
other hemisphere, stand in the same relation to their hinterland 
resources in Russia, the United States, and Japan respectively 
as Portsmouth, Devonport, &c., do to those of Great Britain. 
Russia, the United States, and Japan are steadily preparing 
for a permanent naval future on the Pacific, to which we shut 
oiur eyes. Additions to the means of supply and to the repair- 
ing plant at Hong Kong are no true answer to Port Arthur, 
Mare Island, or Yokosuka. Lavish money as we may on 
Wei-hai-Wei, that position can never ftimish the true answer. 
It is to ports in Australasia that we must look for producing 
power. The hope of British survival in the Pacific is not 
in mounted infantry or bushmen scouts — those admirable 
troops of proved excellence in modem war by land — ^it 
lies in the development of means of local production and 
maintenance of battle power on that ocean. In the &ce 
of such developments as are now in progress on both sides 
of the Pacific, our island resources in the north-east comer 
of one hemisphere cannot indefinitely compete on equal 
terms for maritime control of the other. The mere £Eu;t 


of haying to drag across the globe aknost every single thing 
necessary for the repair and equipment of British ships 
is a heavy handicap in a war with a nation, or nations, 
having the necessary sustaining power, so to speak, on the 
spot. We forget that the last great struggle for maritime 
supremacy was practically confined to the Atlantic basin and 
its indents. The Atlantic epoch of maritime strife succeeded 
that of the more restricted area of the Mediterranean, and 
produced the result which naval history records ; but now the 
whole water world is open as the theatre for the naval struggles 
to come. Just as centres and sources of maritime power 
shifted from the Mediterranean to seas outside, so now centres 
and soiurces of that power have already b^un to be shifted to 
the Pacific. Since the last great maritime war, the British 
position has changed from that of an island with plantations 
here and there abroad, to an empire composed of a series of 
self-governing states in both hemispheres, and dependencies of 
enormous magnitude in two continents. The method of pro- 
viding for that sea security on which the whole wondrous 
world-wide fabric depends is nevertheless still the same as that 
of the "right little, tight little" island, when the Pacific 
Ocean was but a vague geographical phrase expressing the 
unknown. Our naval policy tenaciously clings to traditions 
founded on conditions long passed away. Because a system 
which necessarily centralised in the south of England all naval 
means of production and supply was successfiil during the 
Atlantic epoch of naval history, we persist in trusting to it still, 
though the other half of the world has been added to British 
maritime risks and difficulties. If the enormous, though 
scattered, resources of our empire cannot be combined to 
produce and sustain the naval power necessary to secure British 
sea supremacy, upon which the empire's existence depends, 
expectation of its lasting cohesion is an idle dream. If states- 
men at home fear to propose practical co-operation for this 
purpose, and colonial statesmen are too busy piling up the 
wealth and extending the commerce of their own communities 


to pay attention to the gravity of the British naval position in 
the very near future, the world will have one more proof that 
size does not mean strength in an empire, any more than in 
a man. The most obvious necessity of British naval policy 
lies in the direction of commencing at once a great Imperial 
dockyard and arsenal in the South Pacific by the co-operation 
of British money and resources to develop local capabilities of 
production, for securing the maintenance of British naval 
power at the other side of the world. 

This digression into a wider field of thought is desirable in 
order to appreciate the true magnitude of that problem of 
which the immediate controversy over naval bases and coaling 
stations is but a detail, though an important one. The true 
grand base for fleets and squadrons, their sub-bases and coaling 
stations in the Pacific and the eastern portion of the Indian 
Ocean, is in Australasia. To ports and their hinterlands there, 
our Pacific fleet should look for the production and supply of 
all things necessary to its efficiency ; certainly not to an island 
in the north Atlantic. In considering the question of garrison- 
ing these outposts, whether off the coast of China to the north, 
or in the eastern portion of the Indian Ocean, we must look to 
the future as well as to the present. We are bound to assume 
that common sense will assert itself in British policy, and that 
our answer to Port Arthur, Mare Island, and Yokosuka, will 
be found in the resources of Australasia. For the same 
reason we should conclude that our fellow citizens in 
Australasia will soon see that, for their safety, they depend 
upon British naval supremacy generally, and more immediately 
upon our supremacy in the Pacific, and right away to the North. 
This being so, and the security of advanced naval dep6ts being 
contributory to the exercise of the sea power on which 
Australasia depends, it is not unreasonable to assume that the 
Commonwealth will recognise their obvious duty to prepare 
and hold in readiness for general service in any part of the 
Pacific, as the exigencies of war may require, such forces as 
jnay be necessary and adapted for naval purposes afloat or 


ashore. If this chain of reasoning be unsound, then the 
foundations of any Imperial co-operative system for the 
defence of the British position in the Pacific are rotten, and 
it is folly to disguise the fact If, on the other hand, the 
assumptions are well founded, Australasia can be relied upon 
to agree to provide the war garrisons and men for general 
naval service in the Pacific at all events. Thus the controversy 
between the War Office and Admiralty over garrisoning the 
coaling stations is but a part of that great question — ^is British 
naval power to predominate in the Pacific Ocean in the future 
or is it not ? 

Maritime war is primarily and essentially a series of opera- 
tions on the water, but in the nature of things — as all history 
in all ages teaches — minor land operations, to attain purely 
naval ends, are not merely expedient, but often wholly un- 

The history of the Pacific itself in our own time illustrates 
this fact, though our Imperial policy of defence ignores it On 
the outbreak of the Crimean war, there was a Russian squadron 
loose in the South Pacific under Admiral Putiatin. There 
was also on that ocean a powerful Anglo-French fleet The 
French squadron was at once re-inforced by the fitting out and 
putting to sea of certain ships kept in reserve at the Mar- 
quesas. There were no British ships in reserve in the Pacific, 
though Australasia was then a series of thriving British com- 
munities. The nearest military Russian outpost to the Pacific 
was on the Amoor, but over 2000 miles from the coast The 
intervening territory was Chinese. General Muravief, who 
commanded, had some seven years before sent an expedition 
down the Amoor, which never returned, and was never heard 
of again. Undismayed, he then set about preparing for war. 
He cast guns, established ammunition factories, and built 
barges, and a small steamer, the Aigun^ to tow them. Mean- 
while a Russian ship surveyed the mouth of the Amoor and the 
contiguous coast, and established one trading port at its mouth 
and another a little way up the river. 

No. 9. in. 8.— June 1901 c 


At Petropaulovski, in Kamtskatka, Russia had a sealing 
station, consisting of one or two wooden huts. Petropaulovski 
is about 800 miles by sea from the mouth of the Amoor, so 
that between the most easterly Siberian outpost and Petro- 
paulovski lay about 8000 miles, about one third being sea and 
some two thirds a terra incognita. There were, of course, no 
telegraphs in those days, and Muravief and Putiatin could only 
communicate with each other vid the Baltic, the Cape, or Cape 
Horn, a process occupying some six to eight months at the 
very least. Such was the position in the beginning of 1854, 
when troops were embarking in our home ports for Varna, and 
all our eyes were fixed on Europe. Admiral Putiatin, at a 
South American port, received notification from St. Peters- 
burg of a state of war, long before the Anglo-French fleet. 
The moral effect of that overwhelming naval force, also in the 
South Pacific, of course automatically drove the Russian 
squadron right away to the north to shelter at the only port it 
had — Petropaulovski, though not a pistol-shot had heen fired, 
and not a British or French ship sighted. It did not, however, 
go there direct, but proceeded to a bay, which is to the 
south of the mouth of the Amoor. There arrived also 
Muravief s military expedition, which had forced the Amoor. 
This was at once embarked, and set sail for Petropaulovski. 
When the Anglo-French fleet arrived at the port, anticipating 
the easy capture of the Russian squadron, the Russian pre- 
parations were complete. The Russian ships were found 
behind a mole, dismantled and protected with sand bags, the 
approach being dominated by great redoubts heavily armed 
and fully garrisoned with Muravief s troops. Futile attempts 
were made to destroy the Russian vessels by bombardment, 
and finally a reckless effort to take one of the redoubts, with 
such force as could be landed fix>m the fleet, was made. It 
was, of course, defeated with appalling loss, and the fleet 
ultimately retreated, after disastrous failure to accomplish the 
naval aim by capture or destruction of the ships, because 
of want of military force associated with its naval power. 


Subsequently Putiatin restored his ships and transports to a 
sea-going condition, the forts were dismantled, and the guns, 
stores, and troops, were re-embarked for the Amoor. The ships 
were withdrawn up the river, while the troops occupied its 
banks, establishing a chain of forts from the mouth to the 
original starting-point of Muravief s expedition. So while we 
were slowly closing in on Sebastopol, Russia, by a sudden 
master stroke, was securing a seaboard and ports on the Pacific 
for which she had so long and so splendidly struggled. From 
that time she persistently worked southward and seaward to 
the boundary of Corea, while further inland she advanced 
towards the Gulf of Pechili. Russia's position at Port Arthur 
to-day is the last of that sequence of events which commenced 
with her defeat of the Anglo-French fleet at Petropaulovski by 
a combination of naval and military force for which we were 
wholly unprepared. If the sceptre of the sea begins by-and- 
by to slip from British grasp in the Pacific, it will not be for 
want of previous warning. But Petropaulovski is too long ago 
for England or Australasia to bother about. We at home are 
too busy preparing six army corps to line our hedge-rows, and 
Australasia too occupied with plans for military local defence 
to attend to the maritime future of the Pacific Ocean. While 
at Port Arthur, Yokosuka, and Mare Island, three Pacific 
Powers develop local naval resources as preparation for that 
future, our Admiralty and War Oflfice are quarrelling over 
which department should furnish a few hundred men for 
British naval depdts in that and other seas remote from 

Tiuming from general aspects to the smaller issues involved, 
the Admiralty objection to appropriating men available for 
service at sea to service on shore, needs examination. For 
purposes of illustration I will confine observation to the other 
side of the world where troops provided by the War Oflfice 
are stationed at naval ports. The following table shows the 
places and the constitution of the garrisons now : 


Natiye or 

Imperial Troops. 

Local Force. 

Hong Kong 






Esquimalt . 



ToUl 2495 (all ranks) 3546 (all ranks) 

The local or native force must be a constant quantity 
whichever department is responsible, so that, so far as these 
three stations in the other hemisphere are concerned, the 
Admiralty objection is to stationing on shore 2495 imits 
belonging to the naval forces, because naval units are for 
service at sea and not on land. That is an objection which, to 
use a slang phrase, ** catches on with the crowd." It will not, 
however, stand in the face of this fact — ^that at home 4200 
bluejackets are permanently quartered on shore in the coast 
guard. That is, and has been for years, the Admiralty's 
policy. No First Lord and no admiral has ever called in 
question the wisdom of that policy. The men are embarked 
in reserve ships for a week or two every alternate year — 
half in one year and half in another — ^to keep them ready 
and efficient for service at sea. What is good in this hemi- 
sphere cannot be bad in the other, and reserve ships are now, 
by reason of Port Arthur, Yokosuka, and Mare Island, as 
necessary at ports near the North Pacific as they are on the 
North Atlantic. 

Modern naval conditions are such that the Admiralty have 
been forced to build barracks on shore at home for naval forces. 
As a matter of fact, accommodation on land is provided at 
home for the following naval units for service at sea exchcsive of 
coast guards. 

For 14^517 officers and men of the Navy. 
„ 7,433 „ „ Marine Forces. 

ToUl for 21,950 naval units. 

The relative numerical strength of the two branches being 
89,528 and 19,590 respectively, it will be seen that quarters on 


shore are thus provided for about one-sixth of the total blue- 
jacket branch, and for less than half the marines, while, if 
coast-guard quarters be added, accommodation is prepared on 
shore for nearly one-fourth of the bluejackets. 

But there is another and a more substantial Admiralty 
argument against the proposal to apply to the garrisons of the 
coaling stations in peace the system illustrated by the coast- 
guard at home, viz., that these garrisons in war could not be 
removed for service afloat or away from the base. It is urged, 
and urged with force, that raids on the ports may be attempted, 
and that therefore the garrison could not be reduced. But, on 
the other hand, is it to be for one moment supposed that on the 
outbreak of war additional force — ^ships and men — will not have 
to be sent to our admirals in the Pacific ? Is it not a dead 
certainty that this must be done, and done promptly ? If those 
admirals are to have no mobile military force at their disposal, 
and associated with their reinforced squadrons, then we may 
possibly expect another Petropaulovski, perhaps something 
worse. In old days, warships could and did carry super- 
numerary force in excess of that actually required to fight the 
ships. That is so no longer. In the days of sailing ships, men 
could be landed, or detached in prizes, without impairing 
seriously the ship's fighting efficiency. Now every man has his 
necessary place, and there are none to spare. To part with 
a very small number of the complement in these days destroys 
the real effective power of a warship. In 1854 a Petropaulovski 
left the fleet heavily short of complement, but still quite able 
to fight A Petropaulovski in 1901 would leave our fleet 
incapable as an effective sea force, and perhaps not able even 
to run away. But if it did not fall a prey to the enemy and 
got back, say, to Hong Kong, and was thus forced to assume 
there the rdle of inferior sea power, under our present arrange- 
ment it would have to remain until officers and men to fill 
the vacancies arrived from Portsmouth or Plymouth ! Under 
the proposed plan of substituting naval for military garrisons 
at Hong Kong, the admiral could restore fighting efficiency 


to his squadron by filling iip the complements fix>m his 
garrison ; local volunteers in such an emergency taking the 
place of men embarked. It is at all events open to argument 
that an efTective fleet, able to keep the sea, is better than an 
ineffective fleet unable to keep the sea, yet having at it^ port & 
strong but purely military garrison. It is quite certain that 
coal transports must accompany squadrons and fleets in war, 
and, indeed, ammunition ships and repairing ships as welL 
Under these circumstances it is well-nigh inconceivable that 
an admiral on a distant station, having these things at 
command, would, on cool reflection, face war with military 
garrisons at his base, and not under his control* rather than 
with naval garrisons at his own disposal 

Is it already forgotten that our admiral in China only the 
other day was forced to rob his ships of fighting power in order 
to land a force to attempt the relief of the Legations at Pekin ? 
He had no alternative, for the force at his base was not und^r 
his control By skill and courage of the highest order, he and 
his force escaped destruction, and got back to the ships. Had 
they not succeeded in doing so, the ships must have remained 
inefficient in fighting power until officers and men fix>m home 
ports could reach the China Sea, the units of force at Hong 
Kong being useless to fill vacancies in the ships. 

I trust I have said enough to show the tremendous issues 
involved in a question which excites but languid interest in 
the public mind, from the impression that it is one of 
subordinate detail, and not one of broad principle, in which 
every citizen of the empire is vitally concerned. The attitude 
of the Defence Committee of the Cabinet, and of the Govern- 
ment itself, seems to be that of irresponsible spectators, rather 
amused than otherwise at the rival claims of the War Office 
" Codlin " and the Admiralty " Short" It is one more proof 
that arrangements for the safety of our world-state in war are 
not guided by policy founded upon principles, but are left to 
contentions between the Admiralty and War Office to evolve, 
uncontrolled by any Minister responsible to the empire for the 


co-relation of the fleet to the army, and the efficiency and 
sufliciency of the means employed. 

The annual value of the sea trade of Australasia and 
Canada, with seaboards on the Pacific, is, in the aggregate, two 
and a half times as great as that of the Russian empire, 
about half that of the United States, and nearly four times that 
of Japan. 

The aggregate revenue of these British states is about 
one-fourth that of the whole Russian empire, nearly one-sixth 
that of the United States, and double that of Japan. 

The expenditure of these British states on a sea-going 
navy — by contribution to the British fleet — ^is £180,000 
a year, while Russia spends over £8,000,000, the United 
States nearly £10,000,000, and Japan over £5,000,000 per 

With these facts in view, I conclude by asking — is it not 
time for Australasians and Canadians to awake to the develop- 
ment of naval war power on the Pacific, and to ask themselves 
what hope there is that the resources of an island in the 
Atlantic, however great, can alone bear the British naval 
burden in that ocean in which they are most directly and 
immediately concerned ? 

Surely these great and growing states must see that they 
ought at least to prepare, in concert with the Admiralty, to 
furnish the means to meet promptly, on the outbreak of war, 
the demands of British admirals in any part of the Pacific for 
forces adapted to, and associated with, the British fleet — the 
fleet on which their own safety depends. It would be their 
obvious business on their own side of the world to relieve 
the naval garrisons, and to provide the mobile military force 
required for naval purposes elsewhere, and so release the naval 
peace garrisons at naval bases for service afloat. 

Thus a true Imperial policy would reinforce simultaneously 
British naval power on the Pacific and the Atlantic. 

For the inauguration of such a policy, founded upon the 
lessons of experience and common sense, we may well hope. 


But the teachings of history, and the strong British common 
sense of which we boast, are alike unheard amid the clash of 
conflicting departmental interests, and the noisy demands 
of the multitude outside crying for submarine boats and 
mounted infantry to protect them at home I 

John C. R Colomb. 



"XTERE is the inhabitant: every one is not allowed to 
JlI come in." So runs the quaint announcement outside 
the private grounds of a Chinese house in Chefoo; and it 
would be difficult to find a more excellent epitome of the 
Chinese attitude towards the Western barbarians. It was not 
so always : in the days of Marco Polo strangers were accorded 
a far more hospitable welcome ; and even so late as the seven- 
teenth century, in the time of the early Jesuit missionaries, 
they were received with kindness if not with cordiality. All 
this, however, was changed as soon as the strangers began to 
assert rights, and to interfere with the customs of the country, 
and the careftiUy prescribed rules of intercoiurse ; for the one 
thing to which the Chinese cling above all others is the absolute 
direction and control of their domestic affairs, free from all 
outside interference or restraint. In the edict issued by 
Grovemor Loo in 1884, in response to the observations 
addressed to him by Lord Napier on behalf of the Canton 
merchants, these words occur : 

The said barbarian eye styles himself superintendent come to Canton. 
Whether a superintendent should be appointed over the said nation's barbarian 
merchants or not is in itself needless to inquire about minutely. But we 
Chinese will still manage through the medium of merchants. There can be no 
alteration made for officers to manage. 


In more dignified language the same principle was enunciated 
by the Tsung-li Yamto to Sir C. Macdonald, on December 81, 
1898, in reply to his intimation that the British Government 
claimed priority of consideration by the Chinese Government 
of all British applications already made for railways, in the 
event of the Chinese Grovemment revoking their resolution not 
to entertain any more proposals. The letter of the Tsung-li 
Yamdn is worth setting out in extenso^ for the rush for 
concessions, and the arbitrary, and to the Oriental mind, 
almost indecent way in which they were forced upon the 
Chinese Government, have, in the opinion of many competent 
observers, had far more to do with the recent outbreak than 
any action by, or animus against, the missionaries. 

We have the honour to observe that the development of railways in 
China is the natural right and advantage of the Chinese Government. If here- 
after^ in addition to the lines already sanctioned^ which will be proceeded with 
in order, China proposes to construct other railways^ she will negotiate with the 
nation which she finds suitable. When the time arrives China must use her 
own discretion as to her course of action. The applications of British merchants 
can^ of course, be kept on record as material for negotiation at that day, but it 
is not expedient to treat them as having a prior claim above all others to a 
settled agreement. 

No one can wish to palliate or excuse the treacherous 
conduct of the Chinese Government, or the terrible cruelties 
committed by the officials acting under their orders, but 
unless some attention be paid to the Chinese case (and in 
many ways it is a strong one) it will be impossible to under- 
stand what can have induced them to act as they have done, 
or to take measures for guarding against a repetition of such 
behaviour in the future. 

To begin with, it will be admitted that the commercial 
wars waged against China by Great Britain and France in the 
middle of the present century have done much to justify the 
dread which the Chinese have always had of intrusion, as the 
thin edge of the wedge which will some day rend their country 
asunder ; a dread which the insistence with which commercial 


entarprises have of late years been urged upon an unwilling 
court has still further intensified. 

It would have been wiser if all the Powers had acted 
upon the principle laid down in the Burlinghame Treaty in 

The United States^ always disclaiming and discouraging all practices of 
unnecessary dictation and intervention by one nation in the affairs or domestic 
administration of another^ do hereby freely disclaim and disavow any intention 
or right to intervene in the domestic administration of China in regard to the 
construction of railroads, telegraphs, or other national internal improvements. 
On the other hand, his Majesty the Emperor of China reserves to himself the 
right to decide the time and manner and circumstances of introducing such 
improvements within his dominions. 

For it is every day becoming more evident that the open and 
undisguised way in which the coming partition of China was 
discussed, the unseemly scramble for concessions, and still more 
the seizure of portions of Chinese territory, notably that of 
Kiao-chow by the Germans in 1897, have had a far more 
potent influence in bringing to a head the latent hatred against 
the foreigners than the much talked of friction with the 
missionaries, of whom the politicians of Europe are now 
anxious to make a catspaw. 

But though the acquisitions of territory, and not the 
missionaries, have been the real irritamenta malorum, the 
missionaries have nevertheless contributed, in proportion as 
they have caused themselves to be looked upon, not as 
evangelists pure and simple, but as emissaries acting on behalf 
of their respective Governments. Nor will missionary enter- 
prise in China ever really flourish until the missionaries dis- 
associate themselves altogether from political afiairs. The 
Tai-ping rebellion, it should be remembered, was nominally a 
Christian revolt, and although it was put down by the assist- 
ance of Great Britain, it was inevitable that the Court and 
the ofiicial classes should thereafter regard Christianity as 
a grave national danger; nor was it surprising that San-ko- 
Un-sin in 1858, and the Governor of Kiangsi in 1860, should 


have memorialised the throne against it as a revolutionary and 
subversive creed, just as many of the officials have been doing 

On thiB account [wrote Archdeacon Moule, in his *' Personal Recollectioiis 
of the Tai-ping Rebellion "] one could not but welcome the roar of the British 
guns on May 10, 1862. It afforded a complete answer to the sneer '* Yoa 
Christians are in league with our oppressors, the destroyers of the dynasty, yet 
with no reconstructive power of their own." Strange, if so, we replied, that 
Christian powers should have driven out their brethren and allies by force of 
arms. Nevertheless we should deal gently, I think, with governmental inert- 
ness, and official reserve, and literary opposition, which meet us and hinder us 
continually in our Christian work. 

Most noble and Christian words ! Would that all missionary 
effort had been on the same broad and tolerant basis. 

It is not necessary to follow step by step the various occasions 
on which the murder or ill-treatment of a missionary has been 
made use of as a pretext for political and commercial aggres- 
sion. None have felt the wrongfulness of it more keenly than 
the missionaries themselves, none have protested against it 
more strenuously. But in spite of their protests such outrages 
continued to be made use of in the same way until the climax 
was reached in 1898, when Germany seized the Port of 
ffiao-chow, as compensation for the murder of two German 
missionaries in the province of Shan-tung : this, it is generally 
believed, being the final grievance which lit up the long 
smouldering resentment of the more hot-headed of the Manchu 

So much for the general policy of the European Powers. 
In addition to it, the net result of our own diplomacy during 
the last few years has been most disastrous to British prestige. 
We have threatened and have then given way — always a fatal 
mistake with Orientals — ^have formulated a policy, and imme- 
diately after have acted in a directly contrary manner. British 
influence in the East has never really recovered from the blow 
dealt to it by the House of Commons in passing a resolution 
that the integrity of China should be maintained, followed 


almost immediately afterwards by the acquiescence of the 
British Govenmient in the occupation of Port Arthur, and 
by our own acquisition of Wei-hai-Wei and Kowloon. The 
Chinese are rapidly ceasing to trust us, and they are ceasing 
also to fear us. 

Russian prestige on the other hand has increased in propor- 
tion as ours has declined. Russia has been outwardly most 
solicitous of Chinese rights, of the feelings and dignity of the 
Chinese Court : what she has done she has always done under 
cover of diplomatic arrangements, and not by violence; but 
she has never failed to seize upon, and to retain, an advantage 
whenever an opportunity to do so has presented itself. Her 
acquisition of Port Arthur under a nominal lease from the 
Chinese Government was a typical instance of her method of 
procedure, just as the forcible seizure of Kiao-chow by a 
German squadron was an instance of the opposite method. So 
too was the cautious attitude assumed by the Russian Minister 
in Peking during the early days of the Boxer outbreak. 

Sir Claude Macdonald telegraphed on May 21, 1900, to 
Lord Salisbury : '' He (M. de Giers) thought that both landing 
guards and naval demonstrations were to be discouraged, as 
they give rise to unknown eventualities." 

And when the outbreak assumed alarming proportions, 
instead of declaring, as the Germans did, that the Chinese 
Government was crumbling to pieces, the Russian Government, 
as late as June 6, offered to undertake the suppression of the 
Boxer rebellion, and the restoration of order in the province 
of Chih-U. 

So again, directly after Pekin was entered, the Russian 
Minister of Foreign Affairs issued a statement in which he 
declared that the only objects had in view by the Russian 
Gk)vemment were the protection of Russian subjects against 
the Boxer insurgents, and to Jurnish the Pekin Government 
with stich assistance as might enable it to take the necessary 
measures for the restoration of tranquillity and good order. 

The terrible cruelties conunitted by the Russian troops 


have» as might have been expected, aroused a very Intter 
feeling ; but however much they have shocked the conscience 
of Europe, they have not had the same effect upon the Chinese 
Court, for they were exercised nominally against the rebellions 
subjects of China, and they were not worse than those com- 
mitted against the Boxers by the Chinese authorities them- 
selves. And in any case the Chinese as a people do not seem to 
resent Russian brutality in the same way that they resent the 
severities of other nations. The Russians, it is true, are 
ruthless whilst hostilities are still in progress, but when once 
they are over they treat the Chinese with a rough kindliness 
which does much to conciliate them ; being half Oriental 
themselves they mix with them freely, and do not hold 
themselves aloof like superior beings, as most other foreigners do. 
A man who knows China well explained the difference to me 
thus : " The Russians," he said, " hold the sword in the right 
hand and a bit of sugar in the left, and when they have done 
with the one they begin with the other. But the Germans use 
first the sword and then the horse-whip ; they never let the 
people down at all ; they embitter their daily lives far more than 
the Russians do." 

And it certainly was a noteworthy fact that when the 
Russians removed their troops from Peking, and it became 
known that the Germans were to occupy the Russian quarter, 
there was a hasty exodus into the adjacent Japanese quarter 
of many of the Chinese who had begun to settle down quietly 
under Russian administration. 

From the very beginning the German policy has been one 
of unconcealed and brutal assertiveness, both to the Chinese 
Court and to the Chinese people. The Russians, on the other 
hand, after the heat of conflict was over, did all they could to 
spare the feelings of the Chinese officials, " to save the Chinese 
face." They safeguarded both the Imperial Palace and the 
Summer Palace as long as they were able, and extended 
protection to many of the Chinese officials who were 
believed not to have been implicated in the attack upon the 


Legations; the Germans declaring that protection could be 
accorded to no officials whatever. 

It is a pity that we have had no independent policy of our 
own, for from every point of view it has been prejudicial that 
British interests should have been subordinated to those of 
Germany. An American said to me in Tientsin, " I can't 
understand you English. You ought to be the principal 
Power in China — ^your trade interests warrant it — ^but first 
you almost ask Japan to settle this business for you, and then 
you place yourselves under the orders of Germany. How can 
you expect to maintain your influence with the Chinese ? " 

On May 21, 1900 — just a year ago — M. De Giers told Sir 
C. Macdonald that there were only two countries with serious 
interests in China — England and Russia. Would he place 
England in such a prominent position now when her influence 
in the North has dwindled to nothing, when her trade there 
has been crippled for years, and when, too, she has lost her 
exclusive control of the Yangtze Valley ? 

The demand for vengeance, and for excessive indemnities, 
has only played still further into Russia's hands ; it has enabled 
her to work successfully on the feelings of the Chinese Court, 
and has driven into a tacit co-operation with her both the 
Americans and the Japanese, although they are the nations 
most injured by her virtual annexation of Manchuria, and 
would therefore have otherwise been most strongly opposed to 
her. The net result of the two policies — of forbearance and of 
vindictiveness — is that the influence of Russia and of Japan 
has gone up in the scale in proportion as that of Great Britain 
has declined. Can there be any doubt of this ? What do the 
Chinese themselves say ? Kang-Yu-Wei, as long ago as 1897, 
foretold accurately what has since happened : ** China only leans 
upon Russia, and in this way allows itself to be easily divided 
up and ruined " ; and again, ** the Empress Dowager was ready 
to give up Manchuria and Formosa. The Emperor could not 
think of it for a moment without cr^ring with distress: he 
wanted to make an alliance with England and reform, whilst 


the Empress Dowager was equally bent on alliance with Russia 
without reform/' Has the balance of power shifted since 
then? Has not Russian influence become increasingly pre- 
ponderant owing to the occurrences of last year ? On Sept- 
ember 18, 1900, the progressive Chinese newspaper, Sin-Vran- 
Poo, wrote as follows : 

It 18 now pretty generally acknowledged that in matters of diplomacy 
Russia takes the lead of all foreign nations, and England is hopelessly belated. 
In the settlement between Japan and China England was asked to act as 
intermediary, but declined to do so, and we lost Liao-Tung. Russia looking on 
demanded its restoration, and it was restored to us. Germany and France 
have also assisted us, but we have yet to hear that one word was spoken by 
England. Now all China is in a ferment. Every one is filled with gratitude 
towards Russia, and no doubt of her is entertained, the hearts of all inclining 
to her, so that outsiders agree in saying that there must be some secret treaty 
between Russia and China. In thus putting forward an empty name, and 
keeping her real material advantage in the background, shows her unfathomable 
subtlety which other nations cannot imitate. The fact that the first peace 
proposals have been from Russia should startle the brain and nerve of every 
Foreign Government. 

The Russians, as the Sin- Wan-Pcu) says, are past masters 
in the art of diplomacy. They thoroughly understand the 
art of apparently conceding a point in dispute, whilst in reality 
they are gaining all they are contending for. It is what they 
are doing now about Manchuria: they will not insist upon 
China signing the Convention, if it is repugnant to her and to 
the Powers ; but nevertheless they will not relax their hold ; 
if anything they will rather strengthen it. It is of no use 
girding at Russia about her action there, it only increases 
the friction vidthout doing any good, and her occupation of it 
is as accomplished a fact as our own occupation of £g3rpt. 
The line of attack, of defence rather, must be shifted elsewhere, 
and is to be found in an entire reversal of the suicidal policy 
adopted by us in 1898 of supporting the Empress Dowager 
against the lawful Emperor and the Ministers he had chosen 
to carry out his reforms ; in recognising that what was caUed by 
Sir C. Macdonald the Kang-Yu-Wei conspiracy was in reality 


a conspiracy of the Empress Dowager, backed up by the 
Foreign Powers, against the Emperor Kwang-Su, who has 
been just as much an unhappy victim in the hands of the 
reactionary Manchus as Louis XVI. was in the hands of the 
Paris mob in the early days of the French Bevolution ; and 
that it is monstrously unjust to punish him, and to punish the 
unoffending Provinces of China, for crimes in which they had 
no part It is even uncertain whether the Empress Dowager 
herself has not in reality been a mere puppet in the hands of 
Prince Tuan and his following : Sir C. Macdonald, as late as 
June 8, 1900, telegraphing to Lord Salisbury that 

The situation at the palace is, I learn, from reliable authority, veiy 
strained. The Empress Dowager does not dare to put donm the Boxers, although 
mshing to do so, on account of the support given them by Prince Tuan, father of the 
hereditary Prince, and other Conservative Manchus, and also because of their numbers. 

So, also, the Peking correspondent of the North China Daily 
News wrote on June 5 : 

At a secret conference of the Empress Dowager's principal advisers, held 
at the palace on June 4, it was decided not to crush the Boxen, as they were 
really loyal to the dynasty, and properly armed can be turned into valuable 
auxiliaries of the army in opposing foreign aggression. Jung-Lu and Price Li 
opposed measure, but were over-ruled by Prince Ching, Prince Tuan, Kang Yi, 
Chi Hsui, and Chao Shu Chiao. Wang-Wen-Shao was silent, and the Empress 
Dowager kept her own counsel. 

And before that on June 2, Sir C. Macdonald had wired to 
Lord Salisbury : 

I am informed by the French Minister that he has learnt on good authority 
that the Empress Dowager is preparing to fly to Sian-Fu in Shensi, owing to 
hostile demonstrations of the Boxers against herself. 

This, and more similar evidence goes far to prove that the 
Empress was not the moving spirit in the attack upon the 
Legations, but that she, like the Emperor, was swept away by 
the tide of popular passion; that the attack was really the 
action of a revolutionary party, and not of the responsible 
Chinese Government. 

It is sometimes urged that we ought to refrain from 

No. 9. in. S.— Junk 1901 d 


taking any very prominent part in the future settlement of 
China, because our trade interests there show signs of being 
on the decline. But our position in China is of infinitely 
greater importance to us as a matter of Imperial prestige than 
as a merely trade question. There is such a thing as Imperial 
responsibility, as well as Imperial profit. We have not hesitated 
to recognise that in South Africa, nor ought we to shrink from 
doing so in China. In Asia rumour travels fast, and it travels 
far, and if we consent to play a subordinate part in China now, 
if the Chinese should come to look upon Great Britain, whom 
they have been wont to regard as the greatest of all the Powers 
with whom they have to deal, neither as a friend to be relied 
upon nor as an enemy to be feared, the result upon our Indian 
Empire is not difiicult to conjecture. On that account alone 
we dare not stand aside, dare not allow America or Japan or 
Germany to give us any longer the lead which we ought from 
our position to have been the first to give ourselves. We have 
grudged neither men nor money to retain our hold upon South 
Africa, because it is a half-way house to India, but we seem 
quite blind to the danger of losing our influence in China, a 
country which for our Indian possessions is of infinitely greater 
importance than the Cape. 

What we require is a definite policy one way or the other, 
and a policy we are ready to back up if need be by force of 
arms. Which policy is it to be? The German policy of 
vengeance, or the Japanese- American policy of forbearance 
and assistance? Self interest as well as humanity counsel 
the latter. It is of no use to flatter the Yangtze viceroys 
if we go directly against their wishes. They naturally 
object to a huge indemnity; for why, they say, should our 
people, who have remained steady through all this time of 
stress and anxiety, be called upon to pay an enormously 
increased taxation because the northern provinces have been 
swept into the vortex of rebellion. It is a little difiicult to 
understand, for the obligation the Europeans are under to 
the Yangtze viceroys is incalculable. Last summer, when a 


hostile move on their part would have seriously imperilled 
Shanghai, they kept their people quiet, and all through the 
vast provinces committed to their charge Europeans were able 
to live in perfect safety. Chang-Chih-Tung issued a proclama- 
tion at the most critical moment of which the following is an 
extract : 

Chang- Chih-Tung^ Viceroy of Hu-Kuang and Yu Yinlin^ Governor of 
Hupeh. The Viceroy and Governor have co-operated with H.E. Ldu, Viceroy 
of Liang Kiang Provinces^ with regard to the protection of, and preservation of 
order in our respective territorities. We have all agreed upon a carefully 
worked-out plan of mutual co-operation for the complete protection of all the 
eastern and southern provinces, and have moreover mutually arranged with 
the Consuls of the various Foreign Powers, that while the admirals of the various 
Powers do not enter the Yangtze River with their fleets, we will guarantee 
the safety of all foreigners and foreign property in the inland provinces, all 
of whom and their belongings will be under the special care and protection of 
the local authorities, who will use their best efforts to preserve the peace. 
This has since been telegraphed to the throne and entered in the records. It 
must further be understood that these arrangements have been entered into 
and mutually agreed upon with the special object of safeguarding the land, 
and the protection of the lives and property of the masses. There is no better 
plan than the above. 

Moreover, an increased taxation to meet the indemnities will 
mean European control of the whole of China ; and why, the 
viceroys say, should we, who kept our provinces quiet at the 
moment of danger be rewarded by our authority being cur- 
tailed ? But if a conciliatory policy be adopted it must, how- 
ever, be adopted frankly and ungrudgingly and without delay ; 
we must not seem to be drawn into it unwillingly, and because 
we cannot help ourselves. And the support we proffer must be 
a tangible support, and not merely one of friendly declarations. 
It is quite possible that China may be rousing herself from her 
many centuries of torpor; that, to use the inexpressibly 
pathetic words used to me by a Chinaman in Tientsin, all this 
misery and desolation may have been necessary for her ultimate 
welfare ; that they may prove to be the agony of a new birth ; 
that she may be going through the same transmutation that 


Japan has undergone. If that should prove to be the case 
is the new-bom China to look upon us with gratitude or with 
aversion ? Is she to be our willing ally, or another of our 
many opponents ? Our action now will determine our position 
hereafter; all Englishmen in China are agreed as to that. 
What they are not agreed upon is what our action should 
be. Yet, as partition is out of the question, every considera- 
tion of political as well as of Christian morality would seena to 
urge upon us forgiveness rather than vengeance, reconstructioii 
rather than disintegration, a generous assistance rather than the 
crippling of much needed reforms by the exaction of enormous 
indemnities. We are continually told that if we do not pursue 
what is called a strong policy we shall lose ground in China ; 
but the time for a strong policy has gone by, if it were ever de- 
sirable, and a considerate policy is the only means now by which 
we can regain the influence we have lost. A continuance of 
the measiu-es we have pursued for the last few years, of threats 
not followed up by action, will only weaken us still further. 
Apart, too, from the question of self-interest, is there not such 
a thing as abstract right and wrong ? It may be that to think 
of China's interests, even more than of our own, to support 
unreservedly the Emperor and the Yangtze vicerojrs in their 
projects of reform, might be the wisest course to pursue from a 
worldly point of view, might prove to be for us the most 
pajring policy in the long run, and that, in the stricter 
observance of the principle laid down in the Treaty of 
Tientsin, that the Christian religion teaches that we should 
do unto oth^*s as we would that they should do unto us, may 
perchance be found the solution to the intricate problem of 
our Chinese policy. 

H. C. Thomson. 


THE idea of conscription is much in the air just now, and 
though nobody in a responsible position has yet proposed 
a scheme for compulsory service in England, there is no doubt 
that there is a tendency to drift in that direction. I have not 
space here to develop the reasons, which seem to me con- 
clusive, that compulsory military service in any form could be 
our worst possible remedy having regard to the object of our 
army, but it is worth considering whether some of the 
admitted defects in our scheme of national defence can be set 
right by improvement in existing institutions. 

It is obvious tliat, without compulsory service, we shall, as 
in the past, have to rely almost entirely, in case of foreign 
invasion, on the militia and volunteers. Of the militia I am 
not qualified to speak ; I must confine myself to the volun- 
teers, who are reckoned by the War Office as an eflfective 
force for home defence, and attempt to deal with the question 
how far that belief is justified. 

There is no doubt that the estimation in which the volun- 
teers are held has been very considerably enhanced by the use 
made of them in the South Afiican War. From their ranks 
were drawn not only the numerous volunteer companies 
attached to their respective regiments, and the C.I.V., but a 
very large proportion of the Imperial Yeomanry. Mr. Brod- 
rick, in his speech of March 8, mentioned that, as a result of 
the good opinion which one volunteer battery earned from 


Lord Roberts out there, it had been decided to arm volunteer 
batteries generally with modem field-pieces ; General Mac- 
kinnon, evidently no lenient judge, testifies in his book on the 
C.I.V. to his high opinion of the men in that force; it is 
notorious that the various r^mental volunteer companies have 
done excellent work, and the value attached to the Yeomanry 
Volunteers is proved by the long-continued use made of them 
in the war. Now all this is encouraging as far as it goes, but 
how far can the work done in South Africa be taken as an 
indication of their utility as a home defence force ? 

It is most probable that, if the volunteers are ever required 
for home defence, they will have to take the field at almost 
a moment's notice. In order to do that with any advan- 
tage they must, in the first place, have their equipment ready 
and not have to be buying it or getting it from store when 
they ought to be on the march. The limited extent to 
which volunteers were called upon to serve in South Africa 
does not afford a large amount of evidence one way or the 
other as to the readiness of the force generally in this respect. 
The Yeomanry were, of course, a special corps, and so had often 
no volunteer or yeomanry dep6t to draw upon, and the single 
companies from various volunteer corps were too small to create 
much difficulty in equipment. But, unfortunately, what evidence 
exists with regard to the C.I.V. is not very encouraging. The 
infantry are a comparatively easy branch to equip, but even in 
their case a very serious contretemps occurred, as readers of 
General Mackinnon's book will remember. At St Vincent, on 
the way out, the author says that he received a telegram from 
London saying, " Army Order of Saturday calls in Lee-Enfields, 
similar yours, because sighting defective, as we knew." 

This is annoying [the Greneral comments on this], as it tends to create want 
of confidence among men who above all else are good shots and fond of their 
rifles. I especially asked for new rifles for this regiment, thinking that we 
should get the very best, . . . because the great mqfority of rifles of the Home 
District Volunteers were at Weedon for examination, and could not possibfy be back in 
time. However, it is the only part of our outfit which has proved defective. 


The General does not add, as he might have, that this was 
the only part of their outfit which was not provided by the 
unmilitary energy of the Lord Mayor, But the defect of 
equipment is best seen in the case of the C.I. V. battery, which 
was provided, though not entirely manned, by the Honourable 
Artillery Company. A battery, to be of any use in the field, 
requires a very special and complete equipment of such things 
as wagons, picket-ropes, horseshoes, tools, spare harness, 
spades, and so on ; and three or four skilled artificers, such as 
a collar-maker, a farrier sergeant, a wheeler, are absolutely 
essential. When the authorities of the H.A.C, came to review 
their resources they found they had the men and the guns, 
but that was about all. It must be remembered that the 
H.A.C., though technically not a volunteer corps, is for all 
practical purposes on the same footing as other volunteer 
regiments, and would certainly be one of the first to be called 
out in case of emergency. The artificers were one difficulty. 
There were men in the corps who knew something about the 
work, but not enough to have the responsibility in the field ; 
finally, retired army artificer-sergeants had to be enrolled, much 
to the advantage of the battery. As to the equipment, it 
took the best part of a month for energetic volunteers, 
working almost literally night and day, to procure the horses, 
wagons, horse and mule harness, tools and personal equipment 
for the men. And though the War Office paid some of the 
expenses incurred, all the labour involved in procuring every- 
thing necessary with such completeness and comparative 
rapidity was done by the officers of the battery and by patriotic 
civilians belonging to the H.AC. who could not go out to 
South Africa. But it hardly requires such evidence to prove 
that our volunteers are not, as a rule, ready for immediate 
mobilisation. The complicated and somewhat arbitrary system 
in which volunteer regiments are brigaded together and affiliated 
to regular regiments, especially in London, introduces an element 
of confusion in matters of detail and the transmission of orders 
which it is important to avoid for rapid mobilisation. The 



equipment stores are rarely in anything like a complete state, 
and such matters as arrangements for the supply of baggage- 
wagons and horses from private contractors in case of mobili- 
sation are generally in a very inchoate condition. Of course, 
there are cases in which the arrangements are as good as the 
War Office will allow them to be : in one London volunteer 
rifle corps, for example, I know that the question of mobilisa- 
tion has been very carefully thought out and provided for by 
an energetic captain ; but it cannot be said that there is any 
complete system even in London. 

The chief things required to remedy this state of things are 
money and system. The money for providing stores sufficient 
for the immediate equipment of volunteer corps should come 
from the nation in peace-time as it would in war-time. The 
volunteer gives some of his time to the nation, and should, 1 
think, be asked to give more, but it is unreasonable to expect 
him or his officers to pay for his patriotism out of his 
pocket as welL If the volunteers are of use they are worth 
paying for; if they are not, they should be abolished. By 
system I do not mean any hard-and-fast War Office plans for 
providing stores and making contracts. Sufficient control 
should be exercised by the War Office, in supervision through 
adjutants and inspecting officers, but commanding officers who 
know local conditions, and could often do things more cheaply 
and efficiently than the War Office, should be allowed a large 
discretion as to contracts. At the same time, unnecessary 
complications in the brigading and affiliation of volunteer 
corps, such as exist in London, should be done away with; 
one rifle corps, for example, is connected for some purposes 
with the Rifle Brigade, for others with the Scots Guards, and 
it is also in a brigade exclusively composed of volunteers. A 
simplification in this respect would not be difficult of accom- 
plishment, and would greatly facilitate rapidity in mobilisation. 
Artillery volunteers present in some respects a more difficult 
question, because there are the horses and the artificers. An 
artillery horse cannot be trained in a day, and, especially in 


London corps, it is difficult always to get men of sufficient 
experience to be good army artificers. The first difficulty 
might be met by having a preferential claim on certain horses 
in a contractor's yard, which should be exercised with guns as 
often as possible. To meet the second difficulty it has been 
suggested by an artillery adjutant that army reserve artificers 
should be allocated to volunteer batteries if called out, and that 
seems a very feasible proposal, as the number of volunteer field 
or horse batteries is not, and never could be, very large. It is 
only fair to add here that the War Office has lately awakened 
to a sense of these difficulties, and has made some attempt to 
meet them ; but it remains to be seen if the new organisation, 
by which some volunteer corps, and those not always the same, 
will be embodied in army corps, while others are not, will not 
introduce a new element of confusion. 

The second point to be considered is the efficiency of 
officers and men. How far is the acknowledged good work of 
volunteers in South Afiica an indication of the value of the 
volunteers for their proper function ? 

First, as to the rank and file. It is obvious, of course, that 
a very small percentage indeed of the volunteers actually 
served in South Africa, but I do not think that those who 
went out were, to any great extent, a picked force, except 
perhaps in respect of martial ardour; but even that is not 
wholly true, because there were innumerable cases of men 
extremely anxious and qualified to go out, who were 
prevented by family or business circumstances. The battery 
of the C.I. v., at any rate, of which I can best speak, was 
certainly not a picked volunteer corps ; not that the best men 
were unwilling, but that, in many cases, they found it abso- 
lutely impossible to serve : and the same is, I imagine, true of 
the rest of the C.I.V. The physique of the men was good, 
but the medical tests were by no means exacting, and I should 
say that the physique of the South African volunteers was 
very little, if at all, above the average physique of volunteers 
who make themselves efficient in the ordinary course. For these 


reasons the various volunteer corps that went out to South 
Africa may, I think, be taken as fair average specimens of the 
volunteers at home, both as regards efficiency and physique 
The further question then arises how far the training they had 
received as volunteers in England fitted them for immediate 
service, the object, of course, of volunteer training. In the case 
of the infantry, at any rate, the experiment is most encouragmg. 
The drill and discipline which the infantry of the C.I.V. had to 
undergo before they had to perform serious miUtary duties was 
not at all considerable ; and the chief complaint which their 
colonel made of them on board ship was that some of the best 
shots were not adepts at sectional firing ; but as voll^ firing 
was probably never used with advantage in this war the ground 
of complaint does not seem very serious. Similarly the volun- 
teer companies affiliated to their regular re^ments were 
generally sent up country immediately to take their share of 
the %hting, and no distinction from their regular comrades 
was ever made to their disadvantage, as far as I know. The 
case of the yeomanry and the artillery was rather di£ferent. 
There is no doubt that the yeomanry had not at first the 
reputation for efficiency and useftilness which they have since 
more than earned. This was due partly to their officers, a 
point to which I shall revert later, partly to the fact that it 
takes longer to train a mounted man than an infantry man, as 
he has to learn the management of his horse as well as of 
himself and his rifle. With regard to volunteer batteries, the 
only one of which I can speak with much knowledge is the 
C.I.V. battery. But the Els wick battery, which was said to 
contain many time-expired regular artillerymen, had very little 
training in South Africa before it was sent up to the front, 
where it did excellent work. The Canadian artillery, which 
also proved most efficient, had some weeks of training before 
it was sent to the front. 

The C.I.V. battery had a very long training on lines of 
communication before it was employed in serious campaigning. 
Some of this time was certainly unnecessary for purposes of 


training, but there is no doubt that the battery would not have 
been as well fitted for the work it did if it had not had a con- 
siderable amount of training beforehand. Much could be said 
of the training necessary for a battery ; it is enough, however, 
to point out that mere gunnery is a very small part of what an 
artilleryman has to learn : the chief difficulty is in the manage- 
ment of the horses. Guns without good horses and drivers 
who can keep them good are worse than useless to an army, 
they are a positive danger to it. One of the things of which 
the battery may be proudest is that, in spite of the very hard 
and continuous work given to the horses, no less than ninety- 
six out of about one hundred and ten were delivered into the 
remount department at Pretoria when the battery was sent 
home. This was partly due to the fact that the horses had the 
long rest which Sir Evelyn Wood once declared was necessary 
for all horses landed in South Afiica before they could do 
really hard work, but chiefly to the training given to the men 
by the major and the captain. 

It will appear from the above facts that, as far as the 
infantry volunteers are concerned, the experiment in .South 
AMca is most encouraging, and that, though the experiment 
with regard to artillery volunteer corps is not conclusive as to 
their immediate efficiency, yet that, with comparatively little 
training, intelligent men can be usefully employed as artillwy- 
men. But there is one element — ^the most important, as it 
seems to me, in considering the utility of volunteers — which I 
have not yet dealt with, and that is, the officers. 

If the volunteers were called out for home defence they 
would necessarily be under the command of their own volunteer 
officers, so that in any attempt to estimate the value of the 
volimteers from this experiment in South Africa it must be 
considered how far the volunteer officers were an element in its 

Of aU the corps that were sent out from England, the 
yeomanry had the greatest proportion of volunteer officers, 
and there is very little doubt that the want of success of 


some of the yeomanry corps at first is largely, if not entirely, 
attributable to their officers* want of experience. Last year, in 
South Africa, one was constantly hearing stories of quaint 
movements, often ending in disaster, executed by the command 
of yeomanry officers, which experienced officers would never 
have sanctioned. Hopeless and useless positions would be 
attacked, ridiculous and purposeless retreats would be made, 
and captures of yeomanry would be effected in farmhouses, 
which the most elementary precautions would have averted. 
Now such occurrences are not heard of ; the officers as well as 
the men have had their training, and the yeomanry have become 
some of the most successful and useful troops in South Africa. 
The volunteer companies that went out also had their own 
volunteer officers ; but they were not of sufficient seniority to 
have any great responsibility at first, and were under the orders 
of senior regimental officers of the regular forces, so that if they 
made mistakes they were not necessarily of great moment, and 
their training proceeded apace with their campaigning. Hence 
no special argument can be drawn from them. The C.I.V. 
were, on the other hand, attached to no regular regiment, but 
here again little evidence, except of a negative character, can 
be gathered, for, at least as far as the infantry and battery were 
concerned, the real responsibility rested with officers who 
either were or had recently been in the regular army. Thus 
the colonel commandant was Colonel Mackinnon, who had 
been in command of a Guards battalion, one of his staff 
captains was in the Grenadier Guards, and the other had been 
an officer in the army, while the adjutants, both of the infantry 
and of the mounted infantry, were regular officers ; and it is 
obvious, in reading General Mackinnon's diary, that, at any rate 
at first, he left very little to his subordinates. Of the officers 
in the battery it would be unbecoming of me to speak, except to 
say that the major had been in the Royal Horse Artillery, and 
that the captain is an officer in the Royal Artillery, that not a 
man in the battery would deny that it is almost entirely due to 
the training which these regular officers gave them, and to their 


experience, that the battery was up to its work, and that the 
volunteer subalterns would be the first to acknowledge that they 
would not have cared to undertake some of thek responsibilities 
in the field without the lessons they had previously learnt from 
the major and the captain on lines of communication. 

On the whole, the experience of the war does not negative, 
even if it does not confirm, the suspicion in many minds that 
the weakest point in the present volunteer system is the officers. 
There are, of course, corps which insist on a high state of 
efficiency in their officers, but these are rare, and the best 
probably that could be said even of their officers, with their 
present opportunities, is what a friend, who was an officer in a 
particularly energetic London corps, writes of its officers: 
" Had we been embodied, I think we should have provided, say, 
four or five men capable of being made usefiil (ifter some 
traimngr It can hardly be said to be the fault of volunteer 
officers that they are not more efficient ; they are busy men, 
and cannot reasonably be expected to be more efficient than 
the War Office requires them to be, though many are. The 
requirements of the War Office are almost laughable in their 
insufficiency. A second lieutenant is appointed on the recom- 
mendation of the lord lieutenant of his county, or of the 
commanding officer of the corps ; no qualification is necessary, 
except a certificate of character firom a clergyman or magistrate. 
After a second lieutenant has obtained his commission, the 
only test he is required to pass in the successive ranks is an 
examination in drill of an extremely perfunctory character, the 
passing of which entitles him to put p. before his name in the 
Army List. On the other hand, there are certain courses of 
training which a volunteer officer can go through which are 
by no means compulsory, but which give him the right to other 
letters in the Army List. Such are examinations in tactics, 
strategy, and so on, and a month's course in a school of 
instruction for militia and volunteer officers. He can also go 
through a month's course of training with regular soldiers, but 
this method is not often pursued, it can hardly even be said to 


be encouraged, and officers who try it sometimes find that the 
profit they get out of it is rather small, as the regulars do not 
always think it necessary to take much trouble about a volun- 
teer officer. The school of instruction is, as far as I can gather, 
the most popular method of increasing a voluntear officer's 
efficiency and the most useful of the present methods open to 
him* But it must be remembered that it is instruction in 
formal drill only, and teaches practically nothing else of an 
officer's duties. However, as I have said, it is the best available 
method, and officers who are keen about their duties undertake 
the month's course, and in some of the best corps are obliged 
to do so by their commanding officers. Even here, however, 
it may be noted, the War Office does not give great encourage- 
ment; the number of schools is limited, and the number of 
officers who can be taught at a time is also limited, so that 
sometimes a man finds himself precluded from joining for the 
only month he could spare in the year. However, as a rule, it 
may be safely asserted that the least inefficient officers are those 
who have taken the trouble to go through the month's course 
at a school of instruction. I have then examined some lists, 
taken quite at random, in the Army List, to see what average of 
volunteer officers have gone through this course. Here is the 
result : 

No. of Battalions in No. of Officers No. 'who have passed 

Volunteer Regiment. in Regiment. School of Instruction. 

6 ... 218 ... 45 

2 ... 56 ... 18 

4 ... Ill ... 41 

9 ••• ol ... *■* 

On the other hand, in most of the London regiments the 
average is very high ; thus, in one, 86 out of 48 officers have 
passed, in another, 29 out of 86, in others, 24 out of 88, and 21 
out of 20. 

In all these cases second lieutenants have been counted in 
the total of officers, and some of these will doubtless pass 
through the school of instruction before attaining the rank of 
first lieutenant. 


In artillery volunteer corps, where exact knowledge is even 
more requisite in an officer, the following figures show no great 
improvement, although I have reckoned in the totals those 
who have passed the special examination in artillery as well as 
those who have passed the school of instruction. 

In one corps only 6 officers out of 27 have passed either the 
school of instruction or the artillery examination ; in another, 
6 out of 25 ; in others, 6 out of 16, 6 out of 14, 10 out of 26, 
4 out of 11, 8 out of 16, 15 out of 87, and 18 out of 28; in 
one corps the major, four captains and six lieutenants have 
not apparently even passed the examination entitling them to 
the prefix p \ 

One of the reasons which I believe tells against the efficiency 
of volunteer officers is the expense connected with the office. 
It may seem a small matter, but in many corps the mere cost 
of the uniform acts as a deterrent to men who would be other- 
wise well qualified to become officers. It is perfectly ridiculous 
that, as is the case in some corps, the uniform of a second 
lieutenant should cost £50 or £60, all the more as in some of 
the best London corps the officers are quite content with a 
uniform costing no more than £20. This is a matter in which 
the War Office could with advantage pass a sumptuary r^ula- 
tion. It is quite true that the gorgeousness of the uniform is 
to a certain extent the choice of the officers themselves, but 
the present generation do not like to change what their pre- 
decessors established, and would probably be only too glad to 
adopt a change forced on them in the interests of the service 
from headquarters. But there are other expenses which officers 
have to incur which might also be avoided. They are often 
expected to pay for regimental shooting prizes : this should be 
done by the coimty or the nation. Again, volimteer drill- 
halls have sometimes been presented by wealthy local magnates, 
who in return hold high commands in the corps : such gifts 
should not make it easier for an inefficient man to hold a post 
in which he may by a want of eneigy or ability paralyse the 
whole working of the corps. It will probably be found that 


many a volunteer regiment is inefficient because its colonel has 
been a great benefactor to it or to the district financially. 

To make the volunteers more efficient, more to be depended 
on for what should be their sole purpose, rapid embodiment 
and immediate use in case of foreign invasion, setting apart 
the question of mechanical mobilisation, which I have already 
dealt with, the one thing necessary is the improvement of the 
officers. The men will be, on the whole, good enough if they 
really get the ten days, or even one week's, real training in camp, 
and can keep up their shooting ; they are intelligent as a rule, 
and if they know the elements of drill and discipline, which 
can be learned in the odd hours of drill at home, they can 
easily do whatever a good officer wants them to do. But an 
officer who is an amateur is worse than useless, he will simply 
throw away liis men. In the first place, he must be able to 
drill his men, and for that he must know his drill at least as 
well as the school of instruction will teach it him. People are 
inchned to run down mere drilling now, and say it is useless. 
They generalise from the Boers or from irregular corps of 
volunteers, who had little drilling and were excellent at scout- 
ing work ; and they forget that possibly the Boers might have 
fought better battles if they had been more drilled, and that 
sometimes high intelligence and a knowledge of coimtry, which 
characterised most of these irregular corps, will take the place 
of strict discipline in certain circumstances. But, as a rule, it 
may be said that drill for a soldier and power of drilling for an 
officer are as necessary for their work as logic or Euclid 
are to a thinker. In both cases they make the man handy at 
doing what he wants to do. It is absurd to say, as '' the subal- 
tern " does in his letters to his wife, that the drill-book is of 
no use, because in war-time the soldiers do not march in step 
or in exact quarter-column. If they had not been able to do 
those things they would not be able to follow what their 
officers wanted them to do, and their officers could not convey 
it to them. But the school of instruction in drill is not 
enough ; the drill-book, though essential,^must be kept in its 


place ; it is a means, not an end, and the volunteer officer must 
have more practical training than he has any opportunity for 
at present in handling his men and in seeing to the thousand 
and one points which have to be considered when men are 
actually in the field, such as feeding, camping, judgment of 
distances and of the men's capacities. The only way of 
getting this is by practical training with large bodies of troops. 
In order to secure this, my suggestion is that at all the chief 
camps of the new army corps a school of instruction for 
volunteer officers should be established. It should be open all 
the year, and every volunteer officer should be obliged to 
go there for training for a month in his first year, whenever he 
could most conveniently get away, and for at least three weeks 
in every succeeding year, for four years. He should there 
be instructed in drill, and should also be required to undergo 
the ordinary training of a camp with the regidar troops. The 
time when his own corps is in field training might be aUowed 
to count in the time required of him. He should be paid 
or given allowances during this time of training. 

The great objection which I know will be raised against this 
scheme is that volunteer officers would not be able to find the 
time for this. It is an objection which has to be met, but I 
do not think it would be insuperable. The men who are not 
really keen about their functions as officers, but regard them 
chiefly as a means of display or a satisfaction of vanity will, 
of course, be weeded out, but they can easily be spared. It is 
even possible that the supply of volunteer officers, already none 
too great, would be diminished, but even that would be better 
than the present system, for volunteers who are not efficient or 
not efficiently commanded had really better be away, as they 
are useless and only create a false idea of sufficient numbers. 
But I do not believe the supply would be diminished, especially 
if the expenses of volunteer officers be reduced as I have 
proposed. Many men who cannot find time for a thing if it is 
optional, do it as a matter of course if they are obliged, and many 
employers who would hesitate to lose a week or two's service 
No. 9. III. 3 JuNB 1901 K 


from a valuable man if they know that he would not lose his 
rank as an officer by their not granting him leave to go to an 
optional course of training, would find it possible to grant the 
leave if they knew that otherwise the applicant would have to 
lose his position in his volunteer corps. Moreover, the fact that 
such a large proportion of London volunteer officers manage to 
pass the month's course of the school of instruction is proof that 
where the necessity exists the means can be found, for probably 
as a class these officers are the busiest of any in civil life. Such 
training would, of course, not make great generals, but it would 
at least give such volunteer officers as are keen enough even now 
to go in for any training at all, enough experience to be useful 
officers; and, at any rate, the country would know more 
of what a volunteer officer is capable instead of being entirely 
in the dark. 

Basil Williams. 


APART from its arbitrary divisions for the purpose of 
administration, Nigeria has been divided by nature into 
two portions differing widely in physical aspect and the 
character of their inhabitants. The first, which consists of 
some four hundred miles of unhealthy seaboard swamp ex- 
tending south and east from the Lagos border to the German 
Kameruns, has been for some time under British rule, but in 
several places our real authority hardly extends more than a 
day's march frx)m the barracks of the black soldiery. The 
second, over which until recently the Royal Niger Company 
held sole commercial and administrative sway, though the 
latter was to a great extent nominal, stretches back northwards 
through a drier country into the Soudan, and comprises the 
ancient Moslem Sultanate of Sokoto, a considerable portion of 
which is as yet a practicaUy unknown region. 

At first sight the whole delta of the Niger would appear to 
have been intended for the black man's especial use, and though 
it is more than four hundred years since the 6ist white traders 
landed there, the sable tribes inhabiting it live to-day much as 
they did at the beginning. In places missionaries have made 
their influence felt, and Government officials have suppressed 
vUlage-buming and human sacrifice, but there is no disguising 
the fact that the mass of the negro populace remains unchanged, 
while the character of the country to some extent accounts for 
this. Steaming in from seaward, anywhere between Lagos 


Lagoon on the one hand and the Cross Biver near the other 
extremity, one's first impression is much the same. Lower 
N^igeria seems to consist mostly of water, and on closer 
acquaintance the reality almost bears out this appearance. 
From horizon to horizon blurred islets of mangrove tops rise 
apparently from the depths of the sea, with a few belts of tall» 
forest and white vapour behind them. Then, if as usual the 
day be fiercely bright and hot, a haze of spray appears lower 
down, with the occasional flash of white surf on a yellow beach, 
until the smoke of the river bar obscures everything. 

The mouth of each river — and there is a separate entrance 
every mile or so — is cumbered with shifting shoals on which 
the long heave of the Atlantic breaks ftiriously. Lights are 
unknown, buoys or beacons remarkably scarce, while one 
clump of mangroves much resembles another, so that it is only 
a long experience as second in command that enables a skipper 
to take his steamer in. As a rule he gropes shoreward with 
the lead, looking out for some particular ridge of cottonwoods, 
and when found, if the day be dear, full steam is raised to 
drive the vessel, with her 4000 tons of salt, gin, and cotton 
cloth, in across the bar. Sometimes it is passed without 
incident, but crossing an Oil Biver bar is not infi^uently an 
exciting experience, a rush through a white seething of breakers, 
a vicious thumping over a shoal with muddy foam flooding the 
iron deck while the whole vessel trembles to the pounding of 
engines, till the spray cloud is left behind and a broad inlet 
winds inland between the mangroves. It generally resembles 
pea-soup in colour and consistency, and one can neither forget 
nor adequately describe its strange sour smell; presently a 
cluster of whitewashed factories rises dazzlingly bright against 
a background of forest, and when the anchor rattles down oppo- 
site the nearest, the newcomer realises that he has reached a 
very strange country. All the Oil Rivers, as the navigable 
creeks are called, Benin, Forcados, Nun, Brass, Opobo and the 
two Calabars, are almost identical in aspect and surroundings, 
which latter usually consist of fever-haunted swamp. 


There are only three classes of white men in Nigeria, the 
trader, the missionary, and the Government officer, who has 
hitherto combined the calling of soldier and general adminis- 
trator. The trader may, perhaps, fairly be placed first Though 
the missionaries have made reforms locally, the deltaic negro 
still remains darkly pagan, and after the return of each puni- 
tive expedition forthwith reverts to his original ways; but 
while both missionary and official work for the future, the pre- 
sence of the trader is only accounted for by present success. 
Besides, the trader came there first, long before those rivers 
were known to be outlets of the Niger, and it was commercial 
foresight and energy which, anticipating the late agreement 
with France, preserved at least a portion of the hinterland for 
us against alien absorption ; while, in spite of innumerable draw- 
backs, British trade with the Niger shows a rapid increase, 
and there will soon be surprising developments. 

For centuries the Oil Rivers have been a favourite resort 
of the reckless firee lance. At first they came in small, worn-out 
vessels, which lay moored for months together in the malaria- 
haunted creeks, trafficking for palm-oil with bad liquor and 
sundries, until when full to the hatches the survivors made shift 
to take their craft home. Then followed the days of the 
anchored hulks, some of which still remain, where ex-slavers and 
privateersmen from Bristol and Liverpool, and their fearless 
successors, rioted and died, until, about the time when various 
rival associations were amalgamated into the corporation 
which became the Royal Niger Company, a new era began. 
British capital was freely invested in trading ventures, and 
commodious factories replaced the stifling hulks, men of a 
somewhat higher stamp took charge of them, and a degree 
of order became apparent, so that to-day there is hardly a 
navigable waterway in the delta that is not the centre of a 
growing commerce. 

Practically speaking, the exports of Nigeria are confined to 
palm-oil and kernels. A littie rubber comes out — ^there will be 
more some day, though at present Lagos holds the monopoly 


— ^but to all intents and purposes a little nut accounts directly 
or indirectly for the white man's presence in Nigeria. It 
grows beneath the curving fronds of a palm in clusters which, 
although it is not a very good simile, resemble a pineapple, 
and when detached it looks like a plum painted scarlet and 
saffron. Under the thin skin lies a layer of scented grease, 
which is scraped off^, and boiled to extract the fibre, and the 
result is palm-oil, indispensable in many manufactures, and 
worth from £20 to £25 a ton. Then there remains a thin-shelled 
nut, which is cracked, and its two black kernels thrown into 
baskets, to be shipped by thousands of tons to Europe for oil- 
extraction. It is a simple process, for it must be remembered 
that the tribesman, who makes no attempt at cultivation, merely 
gathers what Nature lavishly provides, but it is probable that 
every few puncheons cost a human life. The possession of 
favourite native markets is periodically fought for, petty robber 
chieftains waylay the oil-carriers going down stream, or exact 
iUegal blackmaU, untU an expedition is sent up against them, 
while the mortality among the white men who purchase the oil 
is very heavy. 

It is now an expensive matter to set up a factory, and a large 
capital is necessary before embarking in the trade, for com- 
petition is so keen that native dealers often demand an 
excessive credit, taking up hundreds of pounds* worth of cloth, 
gin, and salt long before they send a puncheon of oil down, 
while some, if dwelling safe among the fastnesses of the 
swamps, defy the white agent to recover from them. Still, 
there are many honest coloured dealers. Almost invariably a 
Nigerian factory consists of a cluster of whitewashed sheds 
standing in a clearing hewn out of the cotton-wood forest on 
the banks of a muddy river, or on a narrow strip of sand piled 
in hundreds of tons among the crawling roots of torn-down 
mangroves. The white trader s wooden house stands behind 
them, raised high on piles in a somewhat vain hope of escaping 
the miasma, and there the unfortunate agent, often suffering 
from fever, works in monotonous isolation twelve hours a day. 


Soon after sunrise, when the morning mist hangs charged 
with germs of fever above the river, if trade is brisk huge dug- 
out canoes come in loaded to the water s edge with oil and 
kernels, and as a rule many scores of exuberant savages in 
elementary attire accompany them. They are of fine physique, 
with hair knitted up into corkscrew plaits, and tattooed devices 
stand out in high relief upon their naked skin, though the 
writer could never ascertain how this is accomplished. For 
several hours, or perhaps all day, a fierce wrangle goes on as to 
the weight and measurement of the oil and kernels, and the 
agent's vigilance is taxed to make sure that shells, earth, and 
pieces of wood are not palmed upon him. Then each sable 
dealer receives a stamped brass token for the goods he has 
brought, and proceeds to the salt or gin shed, which by this 
time resembles an oven in temperature, to commence another 
dispute as to the value of the merchandise he is entitled to. 

All this is comparatively easy, but when a swarm of 
clamorous customers throng the general store or ** shop," and 
demand treble the number of flintlock guns, old silk hats, cheap 
umbrellas, and various rubbishy sundries their token represents, 
it requires a keen wit and sharp eyes to hold one's own with 
them, for the West African savage is as adroit a bargainer as 
any in the world. Then when the glaring sunset fades off the 
river, and with a splash of paddles the last canoe slides away, 
the agent goes back to his evening meal in the damp-soaked 
upper room, and lounges for the sake of coolness on the 
verandah while the fever-mist rolls like steam across the 
forest, and hot, muggy odours fill the heavy atmosphere. 
There is usually nothing else he can do, for even when three 
or four factories are built at half-mile intervals beside the same 
river, trade jealousy often prevents intercourse between their 
inhabitants. The building is hemmed in by creeper-choked 
forest or impassable swamps, and apart firom this a white man 
usually finds that his daily work exhausts all the energy he can 
muster in that climate. The agents do not often live very 
long. Alcohol is always a temptation in such surroundings. 


though the most abstemious rarely escape sickness, and of the 
many young Britons who go out for some £60 per annum to 
learn the business, a large proportion die before completing their 
three years' contract. 

Nevertheless, if there were only exports the trade would be 
important, but in exchange for his oil the native takes large 
quantities of Cheshire salt and Manchester cotton, besides 
sundries and Hamburg gin, supporting several steamship lines 
which bring them in. The cloth and gin are consumed in the 
delta, and opinions are divided upon the influence of the latter, 
which may be purchased at about twopence per quart whole- 
sale. Some describe it as a brain-destroying poison, others as 
an innocuous stimulant, while the writer would only state that 
though he has seen great numbers of cases purchased he rarely 
witnessed any drunkenness among the natives. This may, 
however, be due to the fact that the negro can apparently 
consume almost any fluid without ill-efiect. On the other 
hand, few white men care to drink the " trade " brand of gin, 
and the few seamen who do so surreptitiously are usually 
brought back by main force in a state approaching dangerous 
insanity. It is also stated that the gin-case is a useful com- 
mercial standard in a region where, except for the " piece of 
cloth," there is practically no other currency, though this, 
regarded ethically, would seem a poor reason. The salt goes 
inland into the Soudan, and will be referred to again. 

The missionary question is mixed up with the consideration 
of the native status, and it can only be frankly admitted that 
as regards the delta this is a particularly low one. There are 
many races all of pure negro tjrpe, and fine in physique, though 
being canoe-dwellers the weakness of their lower limbs is 
accentuated. As is perhaps natural in a region of swamp and 
twilit forest which Ues sweltering under tropic heat save when 
it is rolled in mist that breeds pestilence, or when it is thrashed 
by equatorial deluge, they are pagans whose mythology consists 
of vaguely-conceived but bloodthirsty deities. There are also 
superstitions based on the reincarnation theory, including the 


power of the mjrsterious essence known as the Ju-Ju to take up 
its habitation in trees, the bodies of animals, or, more often, the 
person of some fetiche king. One hears of many secret 
societies connected partly with the cult of the Ju-Ju, whose 
proceedings appear to be the same throughout the West African 
littoral, for the advent of one of the mysterious wanderers who 
ostensibly combine the callings of minstrel and soothsayer will 
throw dusky labourers of widely different races into a continued 
state of nervous restlessness. Also small tokens, a bunch of 
reddened rags, or other insignificant object set up on a wand, 
will suffice to close a waterway to trade, or in other cases serve 
as a safeguard and passport ; and though few traders or officers 
possess any insight into their real significance, all agree that the 
power of the Ju-Ju exponents is enormous, and that they are 
capable of stirring up serious trouble in Western Afiica. 
Human sacrifice, in spite of official efforts, is by no means 
uncommon, and two powerfiil black traders whose acquaintance 
1 made were reputed to owe their success to talismans in the 
shape of desiccated portions of the human anatomy, while 
until recently each ebb brought mutilated bodies down certain 

Beyond the collection of palm-oil, there is no settled 
industry, but all the tribes alike seem keen traders. A com- 
mercial dispute often underlies the periodical risings, and armed 
interference is necessary to prevent some petty ruler hindering 
his rivals in carrying their produce down river, or suppress- 
ing competition with the flint-lock gun. Sympathetic, fond of 
merriment, seldom seeing further than the day's needs, but 
unstable and liable to outbreaks of revolting cruelty, the well- 
known description, " half-devil, half-child," would seem to fit 
the Niger tribesmen especially. Such missionaries as the 
writer met were zealous and long-suffering men, who could 
often show good results of their labours in the shape of cleanly 
villages, where many of their converts had been taught useful 
handicrafts, and lived in peace and prosperity. Nevertheless, 
the bulk of the population will have nothing to do with them. 


while those who leave the mission stations do not always 
reflect credit on their training. It is an unfortunate fact that 
almost the wide world over, in West Africa, the Straits, China, 
and the Southern Seas, one rarely finds either trader or official 
speaking well of the native convert. Of course, that may be the 
fault of the self-styled convert rather than of his teaching, and 
the trader is generally prejudiced against the missionary, but 
the truth remains that most factory agents prefer a raw heathen 
assistant to a converted one, while in the Government service^ 
where courage and fideUty are requisite, the post is given to a 
dusky Moslem. After some experience of semi-civilised black 
men, the writer would sooner trust his property to a pagan 
Krooboy, for whom indeed he has a qualified admiration, or an 
unsophisticated Jackery from the Nigerian bush. 

The Government oflicer's fife is perhaps a brighter one. 
As a rule he lives in a well-appointed Consulate built among a 
number of factories, in close touch with civilisation. The 
dwelling is raised high on piles, and there is a court-house 
below, with a barrack close beside it for the black soldiery, 
then beyond the hard-trodden compound the forest closes in 
agfdn. Still, the position of Consul or outpost lieutenant is 
rarely a sineciure. The trade routes must be kept open, even at 
the cost of bloodshed, that peaceful sable dealers may send 
down produce without their canoe-boys being kidnapped or 
murdered. A pledge has been given that the rivers shall be 
free and safe to all, while it is only when repeated remonstrance 
fails that the dusky pirate is sternly repressed. Then hiunan 
sacrifice must be put down with the strong hand if there is no 
other way, though it would probably require an army division 
to do it effectually. As an instance of official forbearance, we 
may take the case of Old Benin, which stood scarcely forty 
miles behind an old-established British settlement. When 
engaged in the neighbouring creeks we heard the usual 
horrible stories of fetiche cruelty, and sometimes found un- 
mistakable evidence of it at low water, while the Grovemment 
officers we conversed with on the subject — and among them 


were the members of the mifortimate expedition — explained 
themselves much as follows : " We shall be bound to interfere 
soon, but we wish to avoid bloodshed if we can, and it will be 
a serious matter to get into Benin." 

All were without exception humane men, devoid of any 
hankering after cheap glory, and here, as in the case of headman 
Nana, waited long and patiently before action was forced upon 
them. As a last hope Nana was invited to attend a gathering 
of the chiefs he had plundered at Sapelli, to see if their 
grievances could not be adjusted, and aft;er kidnapping a canoe- 
load of friendly oil-carriers imder the protection of the flag his 
answer was, ** I am King of Brohemie, and I come to talk to 
no white man. If they want me let them come to Brohemie," 
while to be ready should his invitation be accepted he 
had carefully ambushed the one creek leading to it. Also, 
when the state of affairs in Benin could be overlooked no 
longer, it was decided to send a few unarmed officers in the 
hope that this might avoid a conflict. The result is a matter 
of history, but it is not perhaps generally known that the 
white men who went were perfectly aware that in all probability 
they were going to their death. Two of them previously told 
me that it would be fatal for any European to carry a warning 
to Ubini. Nevertheless, they went, and were duly shot down 
from ambush. One at least was as gentle and courteous a 
soldier and gentleman as ever this nation sent out on a deadly 
mission, and he went down shattered by potleg, facing the 
tribesmen with a light stick in his hand, and hailing his 
companions to escape if they could. 

Then there is justice to administer, and at regular intervals 
the court-room beneath the Consulate is packed with mostly 
naked black humanity. The heat and mingled savours grow 
almost overpowering, while in spite of warnings accuser and 
prisoner chatter together with the negroes* apathetic indiffer- 
ence to the future. There are a couple of sentries on guard 
outside; inside a black interpreter faces the assembly, and 
generally a thin and haggard white man, whose yellow uniform 


hangs very loosely about him, sits wearily at a desk with two 
dusky soldiers standing in state behind him. The favourite 
defence is an alUn, and when each witness has located the 
culprit in a diflferent place about the same time the result 
becomes bewildering, and it requires a long experience to sifl 
out the truth. The cases are also many and varied, waylaying 
oil canoes, a rival's murder, mixing palm-kernels with shells, 
smuggling gin, and litigation between wild black men who 
have brought their complicated disputes to be decided by the 
wisdom of the white men. And this may continue all day 
until the court-house resembles the black hole of Calcutta, and 
at last the worn-out Consul, who probably suffers from fever, 
is scarcely able to dra^ himself away. 

A company of dusky soldiers is generally attached to each 
Consulate, not negroes, but finer-featured men, often of lighter 
colour, from the hinterland, usually either Moslem Haussas, 
or Yorubas frt>m behind the Lagos colony. They are both 
intelligent and courageous, for as one travels north the 
influence of the Arab becomes apparent, and these soldiers 
have diluted Eastern blood in them, while some might even 
claim an ancient descent from the first white conquerors who 
invaded Africa from the Mediterranean shore : all of which 
leads us back towards their own country — ^Upper Nigeria. 

Travelling northwards, the swamps and dripping jungles 
of the delta give place to drier land. There are still forests, 
but one also finds mountain ranges and wide tracts of park- 
like scenery, while, instead of foul creeks oozing through mud 
and sUme, there are clear streams, and the great river formmg 
broad lakes or frothing down rock-walled gorges. The 
character of its inhabitants also changes, for here, instead of 
the naked savage, one finds an intelligent people cultivating 
the land, raising cattle and horses, and practising many handi- 
crafts. As one instance, the fine blue *' country cloth," spun 
from native cotton and died with indigo in the Haussa 
land, commands a higher price along the coast than any 
Manchester product Handsome leather-work is also produced. 


as well as steel from native forges. All these people are 
Moslem, though with some the faith of Islam is largely tinged 
by negro superstition ; and they owe nothing to Europeans for 
such advanUges as they possess. 

Twice in bygone years there were powerful empires in the 
Nigerian hinterland, and the Sultanates of Songhay and Sokoto 
have in decaying left an ineffaceable stamp. Both were 
evidently ruled over in a manner rather Eastern than barbaric, 
and for a time they made their influence felt over much of 
Northern Africa. Even to-day, great though partly ruinous 
walled cities, Kuka, Kano, Sokoto, and others smaller, stand 
amid a fertile coimtry. It is a patent fact that, in the region 
behind the West Coast at least, contact with the Arab and the 
Moslem religion has the power to raise the negro from the 
condition of a savage to a state which, if far from perfect, is 
certainly superior to his original condition. 

There is a vast market in this region, and, to be reached 
through it, in the Soudan, for European produce of good 
quality. Rubbish would be useless here, and abeady we send 
vast quantities of salt into it. This travels up the muddy water- 
ways in canoes, and is then packed in fibre cylinders, from which 
each heathen headman or petty Moslem Emir cuts off* so much 
in toll, as it passes on the heads of slave trains, and by horse and 
camel in turn, beyond European knowledge. Our present trade, 
though extensive, is but the beginning of a greater commerce, 
as will become evident when the territory lately taken over 
from the Chartered Company has been opened up to all 
comers. At present, European goods travel south across the 
deserts from Tripoli, and are purchased largely at a corre- 
spondingly exorbitant cost, the conservatism of the Arabs, and 
interference by interested native potentates, having hitherto 
prevented the adoption of the Niger as an easier route. 

France has been long scheming with far-sighted energy 
to tap the trade of the Soudan by railroads from Algiers 
and Senegal, and by diverting caravans vid Lake Chad to 
Ubangi, but she has never made colonial extension a success 


commercially. The officers of the Genie have done good work 
ill Africa. From Algiers round by Senegal and Dahomey to 
the Gaboon, their roads, light railways and piers, are better than 
our own, but the result has always been disappointing, while 
wherever the British trader, often hampered — ^so he complains 
— instead of assisted by his Grovemment, wins a footing, he 
continues to flourish. Favoured by the Nile, Khartum will get 
a share of this coming trade vid the old Meccan pilgrim road ; 
and though France has to a considerable extent forestalled 
us geographically, it is very probable that there will presently 
be great developments in Upper Nigeria. For some time the 
Royal Niger Company had doubtless this fiitiu^e in view, and 
on the whole they did their work as pioneers thoroughly, while 
now they have turned over a wide field as well as a heavy 
responsibility to the Imperial authorities. Had the warnings 
of those interested in West African conunerce been Ustened 
to. Great Britain would have been in a mueh more favourable 
position as regards hinterland territory. 

The founders of the Royal Niger Company saw this 
clearly, and saved us a share of it, and it must never be 
forgotten that while no territory in West Africa is very suit- 
able for European settlement, the hinterland should be much 
less deadly than the coast, with much greater latent capabilities. 
To-day, the whole of Nigeria is, as it were, passing through 
a transition stage, and those who understand its peoples and 
conditions wait with expectation for what will follow. 

Harold Bindloss. 


THIS is an age of advertisement Even within the last 
ten years a great advance has been made in the art of 
advertising, though much still remains to be done. The mark 
(would it be more correct to say the trade-mark ?) towards 
which the true advertiser presses is, of course, the sky adver- 
tisement, to which, though forbidden for the moment, he or his 
descendants ^nll without doubt one day attain. That Fears 
or Monkey Brand or EUiman or some of their enterprising 
compeers will eventually cover the entire dome of St. Faults 
with pictorial placards may be taken for granted, as merely a 
question of time. The Dean and Chapter of the next 
generation will probably find that sections of the inside of the 
dome if illuminated by search-lights will let almost as well as 
the outside. Fulpit advertisement, we venture to prophesy, 
will prove the most remunerative of alL 

Already every grocer's van which promenades our streets, 
or penetrates to our secluded villages, is a mass of flaring 
announcements, all paid for by the advertisers. A new 
development, and one which in this season of agricultural 
depression might be put into practice immediately for the 
relief of the present distress, is that of advertising in some- 
what the same manner on the carriages of our poorer nobility 
and landed gentry. The nobility, especially in its upper- 
most spirals, would command, of course, a higher price than the 
mere commoner, but the landau of the country squire would 
not be without its market value, while a baronet's carriage 


would rank next to that of an earl, owing to the conviction 
of the public mind as to the high rank of a baronet, 
strenuously inculcated by the society novelist. 

All this, as far as my own experience goes, remains yet 
to be done; even doctors' broughams, as far as I know, 
though presenting a surfiice admirably suited to the purpose, 
have not been as yet utilised. 

Landscape advertisement is also stiU in its youth. Snowdon, 
Ben Nevis, and many other eminences are practically 
unemployed. The pretty drives near most country towns are 
also frequently bald of any interest save that of nature — ^an 
omission which is the more siu*prising because in southern 
watering places the persons who drive most assiduously are 
generally invalids, who possibly have not taken Dinneford s 
Magnesia, or Eno*s Fruit Salt, or Homocea which touches the 
spot, but who might do so to their lasting benefit if their 
attention were called to these panaceas, by seeing them nestling 
among the primroses in the steep banks of a Devonshire lane, 
or gleaming above high- water mark along the rose-red cliffs of 

But when fired by its splendid present we thus ** dip into 
the futme,'' the still more splendid future of the advertising 
art, the brain reels before the conception of the varied perfec- 
tions to which it wlU undoubtedly attain, and the dazzled 
vision is fain to turn for relief in the opposite direction, and 
endeavoiu: to retrace this half-grown giant to his cot, and to 
discover from what foundation the present imposing super- 
structure has sprung. 

For the pictorial or rainbow-hued advertisement designed 
to catch the eye, of which we have been speaking, is, after all, 
but one feature of the art. The whole columns and sheets in 
the THmes and Morning Post, and in all the magazines and 
illustrated papers — ^to say nothing of papers published solely 
with that object, such as the Matrinuynial Nea>s and the 
Exchange and Mart — show how enormous has become the 
growth of advertisement of every description. 


The task of retracing an art to its infancy is not in this case 
an easy one. It depends mainly on the testimony of old news- 
papers. But who in these days keeps old newspapers ? And 
in past generations who kept them? No one, we suppose, 
except the bore of the family. The person who nowadays 
writes to the Morning Post about a large gooseberry, or a 
wide-waisted tree in Kensington Gardens, or the advisability 
of throwing out crumbs to **oiu* feathered fiiends*' in long 
frosts, by these acts lets off the steam which his ancestor spent 
in collecting newspapers and making long extracts fitmi them. 

But the difference between a newspaper bore of to-day 
and a newspaper bore of a hundred and fifty years ago is as 
great as that between a live and pertinacious fly and a fly in 
amber. We can *' suffer gladly " a bore who lived long ago, 
because he died long ago. Nay, we can perhaps even Uess his 
memory, for it may have been his portion in this life to preserve 
frx>m destruction the valueless and uninteresting until it became 
in the course of years interesting once more. This theory, if 
true, presents an interesting solution of the hitherto unfathomed 
mystery of the existence of the bore, and gives him a place in 
the imiversal economy. But this is a digression. 

Quite recently, in the library of an old country house, I 
had the good fortune to light upon a bulky collection of old 
newspapers made by a member of my own family who, frcHn a 
feeling of grateful respect, may siuely be likened to a fly in 
amber. These newspapers ^ date from the declaration of war 
between England and Spain in 1789 and cover a period of 
sixteen years — 1789 to 1755. There is also a whole year 

1 The London Evening Post, 1139-55 ; the DaUy Posi, 1741-45 ; the Dotfy 
GasetUer, 1742 ; Reading Mercury, 1743 ; the St. James Evening Post, 1745 ; the 
WhiUhaU Evening Past, 1745-55 ; the Geneml Advertiser, 1745-50 ; the General 
Evening Post, 1746-48; the Essex Weekfy Advertiser, 1746; the Westminster 
Journal, 1754-55 ; the Evening Advertiser, 1754-55 ; the Daify Advertiser, 1755. 
These papers are in many cases incqpplete and numbers are frequently missing. 
It appears as if some of them had been taken in for a year or so, then counter 
ordered for another year, and then taken in once more. 
No. 9. in. S.~JuNS 1901 P 


(apparently complete), of the S^. Jameis Chrofdde or British 
Evening Post, for 1764. 

Between 1789 and 1755 the advertisements m most of them 
are few, and printed so small and in such wavering lines as to 
be almost ill^ble. In 1755 there is a sudden marked increase 
in the number of advertisements, and this increase is main- 

The discovery of the primeval advertisement has not of 
course rewarded our research. For we have not access to the 
strata wherein we might at least dig for his remains. The 
earliest of any kind which I have been able to unearth occurs 
in a '' Rider's Diary " for 1786, which possibly belonged to the 
newspaper collector. It is that of a dentist I ^ve it with 
its own spelling and punctuation. 

Artificial Teeth, set in so firm, as to eat with them, and so Ezaet, as not 
to he distinguish'd finom natural ; they are not to he taken ont at night as is by 
some fidsely suggested, hut may he worn years together ; yet are they so fitted, 
that they may he taken out and put in hy the Person that wears them at 
Pleasure, and are an ornament to the Mouth, and greatly helpful to the Speech : 
Also Teeth clean'd and drawn by John Watts . . • Racquet Court, Fleet Street. 

The earliest announcements in our collection of newspapers 
consist mainly of unfailing specifics for noisome ** distempers.** 
Week after week the same remedies meet the eye for '* that 
Reigning disease Scurvy," for paLsy, for leprosy, for scrofula, 
for all kinds of terrible ailments and skin diseases. Some of 
''these noble drops,*' we are informed, ''darting almost as 
quick as Lightning through the whole Human System,** 
effect a complete cure in one or more doses. Others are 
reconunended to ladies as '' exceeding pleasant either in Snuff 
or a handkerchief." 

Asthma, which we had imagined to be a comparatively 
modem disease (dating, as some elder persons brought up 
on hand basins firmly believe, from the introduction of batiis 
into private families) ^ has many cures advertised ; especially a 

^ I rememher visiting some ten years ago at a country house which had 
not been altered since it had been refurnished in the height of the then fashion. 


certain tobacco which reUeves '* Asthma and such terrible 
VTheesings/' and ** is prepared only up one pair of Stairs at 
the Sign of the Anodyne Necklace/* 

In the official record of deaths in one of these papers there 
are in one list no fewer than three ascribed to asthma. But 
possibly all diseases of the lungs were considered to be asthma 
in those days ; as in our grandmothers* time bronchitis, conges- 
tion and inflammation of the lungs were alike called '' a closing 
of the chest," and generally proved fatal. An old lady once 
told us that in her early youth she had seen a little cousin 
playing about with his brothers and sisters in an advanced 
stage of this ''closing/' which closed altogether a day or 
two afterwards, to the regret of the parents, who, though 
wealthy and affectionate, felt that nothing could have been 

Ladies at this date seem to have suffered much from ** the 
vapours," for we find repeatedly advertised "The most 
noble smelling Bottle in the world . . . which Smelled to, 
momentarily fetches the most dismal fainting or swooning 
Fits, and makes chearful although never so sad." It is 
hardly necessary to add that this panacea may also " be taken 
inwardly." Old patent medicines certainly had one advantage 
over their numerous descendants, namely, that they could 
almost invariably be applied externally as well as internally, 
no doubt with equal success. 

An " incomparable tooth powder *' asserts that it needs no 
recommendation, ** its own virtues being sufficient ; nor did we 
ever seek for a patient ; for, as they say. Good Wine needs no 
Bush." As might be expected, however, a long panegjnric 
follows this dignified preamble. 

We hear in the years between 1789 and 1704 of many 
drugs "which prepare the body for the small-pox," but 

with all the latest improvements, in 1745. The washhandstand with a maho- 
gany top, resembling a fitted desk more than anything else, and having a 
cream jug in a saucer in the middle, still remains a root of bitterness in the 


not till 1764 do we arrive at a doctor's advertisement of 

Persons of either sex and children are inoculated, attended, and provided 
with everything necessary in neat and separate apartments ... at Five 
Guineas apiece. The expense attending this operation when performed at 
home or in private lodgings has hitherto reduced persons of moderate iarcmar 
stances to the disagreeable necessttj of going into an hospital or being deprived 
of this salutary Practice. 

In a later advertisement on the same subject a doctor 
assures the public that many of his patients had actually quite 
recovered ** in a month." 

Miserably few and far between, according to present ideas, 
are the advertisements of ladies' dress. This, no doubt, is 
partly owing to the class of newspaper through which we have 
been looking. If some back numbers of the Lady's Magazine 
advertised in these papers could be procured, a number of 
dress announcements might perhaps be discovered. One 
catches the eye by its heading in large print 


Alexander Middleton makes ^' all sorts of Stays, Jumps, and Slips with easy 
and agreeable Shape ... all Tabby or Sattin at l£ 1 Is. Half Tabby, l£ 6r/' 

A sidelight is thrown on this interesting subject by adver- 
tisements of theft such as the following : 

Whereas a fresh colour'd Man in a Snuff colour'd Coat went up three pair 
of Stairs at the house of Mr. Thorn without asking any questions, and took 
from thence a pair of Stays Tabby before, Callemanco behin4» 

and several other equally domestic articles for which a reward 
is o£Pered. 

Whenever an advertiser offers a reward for a lost or stolen 
article he always thoughtfully adds ** and no questions ask'd,'" 
whether it is in the case of ** a little Shag dog," or a pointer 
having ** one of his Short Ribs at the Right Side broke which 

^ In 1841 The Vaccination Act made the practice of inoculating with 
small-poz virus unlawful. In 1853 another Act was passed with a view of 
rendering the practice of vaccination compulsory. 


Sticks out : his Tail about a handful and answers to the name 
of Furo/' or a pet the loss of which might almost appear to be 
a blessing, ''partly of the Cur kind and inclinable to be 
mangy " ; or even of ** a large Silver tea kettle and lamp the 
Top left behind/' Whatever the article may be the owner 
promises on restoration to ask no questions. 

Horse-stealing appears to have been much more frequent 
then than now if we may judge by the continual advertise- 
ments for very inferior animals, such as a Brown Mare with '' a 
hole in her near Shoulder and a slit in her near ear/' (Where 
was Miss Cobbe, or at least Miss Cobbe's great aunt ?) Or 
another with " his legs pretty hairy and thick " ; or a " Grey 
Roan Mare seven years old next grass, a bob tail that's been 
nick'd and bends in the middle, the hair worn in the girth 
place almost to the skin/' 

One horse-stealer is described as having ''a pale complexion, 
and a more than common rising upon a largish nose " : which 
graphic if unflattering description seems to have led to his 
conviction, for the advertisement does not appear again. 

A very large number of book advertisements appear 
regularly, especially of the religious pamphlet description, such 
as '* A sober appeal to a Turk or an Indian concerning the 
plain sense of Scripture relating to the Trinity/' 

The first advertisement of " Famela " is quickly followed 
by a skit called *' Anti-Famela/' As one looks down the lists 
of new books one is struck by the very small percentage of 
novels or stories of any kind. Happy the novelist who lived 
in those days I 

Frints firom Hogarth's pictures are frequently advertised, 
sometimes in a manner happily obsolete now. 

New Print. Taste in High Life from an incompaiable picture of Mr. 
Hogarth's — ^proving beyond contradiction that the present polite assemblies of 
Drums Routs etc. are Meer Exoticks ; and the supporters of such a parcel of 

Of children's books I have found but one mention — one 
mention in sixteen years — and of toys only one. 


The very finest Dutch toys as not to be imagin*d Unless a Lady with 
little Masters and Misses were to see them. 

Only two advertisements of Almanacs have been discovered. 
That for 1741, ''For Families. Quite different from any 
Almanack ever yet published since Almanacks first b^^ " ; 
and another for 1748, ** Containing those things throughout the 
year which all the common Almanacks ought to mention, yet 
none of them speak a word of/' This advertiser is evidently 
culpably ignorant of " Rider's Diary," which twelve years earlier, 
in 1786, offers masses of information and advice to the reader. 
In January he is advised not to use Physick, but to diink 
White Wine fasting " for the best Physick is warm Diet, warm 
Clothes, and a merry honest Wife." In February "Slimy 
Fish, Milk, and the like, that do oppilate and stop the Liver 
and Veins . . • are to be eschewed as Enemies to Health/* and 
so on. These invaluable hints for every month of the year as 
to the preservation of health are mixed with directions as to 
sowing and pruning and the treatment of live stock. At the 
end of the Diary is a "True and Plain Description of the 
High- Ways in England and Wales," a " Table of the Moveable 
Fairs, The exact Dimensions of Great Britain, Ireland, the 
Isle of Anglesey, of Gamsey, etc., Beer Measure, Ale Measure, 
A Table of Kings," and " The Hour and Minute of High 
Water at London-Bridge every day " besides " A Computation 
of the most Remarkable passages of The Times from the 
Creation to this present year 1786," among which we notice 
with interest the building of the Temple at Jerusalem, and that 
of the bridge from Fulham to Putney. 

Directiy the war begins constant are the advertisements of 
officers for deserters frx>m their regiments. Thomas Atkins, 
if we may judge by the description of his outward man when 
he was missing, was not such an imposing-looking creature 
as his namesake of to-day. He was generally described as 
marked with the small-pox or " pock fretten," and frequently 
as having a stoop, and still more frequentiy as having a " west, 
or " sty," or " blemish " in his eye, or having " tender ^es. 




He almost always deserted in a ** gristle *' or " bob wig.** Once 
indeed he is described as having '* Slink Black hair," but this 
is an exception. Most of these deserters were very young. A 
certain Isaac Chesmon is only sixteen. 

Side by side with the rewards for deserters appear numerous 
advertisements of the sale of Spanish, and, later on, of French 
boats, sloops, and Register Ships and their cargoes, many 
of them of the richest description, captured in the East 

Commodores Bamett and Warren while protecting our 
trade in 1744 took many richly laden prizes, some of which 
perhaps found their way into these narrow columns, with a 
woodcut of a ship in full sail to draw attention to them — one 
of the few illustrated forms of advertisement we have been able 
to find.^ 

Advertisements for servants are of the greatest rarity. One 
of the very few is for ** A Gardener that can on Occasion drive 
a Coach and look after horses.** And another is that of a 
gardener seeking a place, who, besides gardening, ** can also 
place Wheat Sheafs in Shocks in the Harvest Field.** 

There are, however, a considerable number of advertise- 
ments for servants and apprentices who have ''eloped from 
their masters." One such, a certun William Sw^e, is 
described as '' red haired of a down look, his hands thick and 
very fiill of warts." He is strongly suspected of having 
assisted his elopement by laying his uncomfortable hands on 
a large sum of money, including *' a three pound twelve shilling 
piece." What a monster of inconvenience such a coin must 
have been I At any rate, in these days nothing worse has to be 
encountered than an execrable but comparatively harmless four 
shilling piece, the value of which, when there is any question of 

1 In 1746 we took no fewer than 143 French and Spanish vessels, and in 
1748 we seised 478 French and 98 Spanish vessels. Our gains on the French 
prises seem to have been considerably lessened by the fact that many of them 
were insured in England, which does not appear to have been the case with 
the Spanish ships. 


change, is, we must confess, a painful strain on the mathe- 
matieal powers. 

Another of these eloping apprentices who was '' of a very 
deep red dull countenance "*...** wore and carried away two 
coats and two Pair of Breeches/' which, as his flight was in 
midwintar, shows that he was not so dull as he looked. Yet 
MK>ther " wears his own black hair and a little deformed in his 


Certainly apprentices in those days — at least those that ran 

away — seem to have been singularly ill-favoured, but possibly 

their masters saw them without illusion after thdr departure, 

not empty handed. 

A few black servants are advertised for as having run 
away. The advartiser in one case evidently feels that the 
identification of a certain *' negro man" is a subject to be 
a{^proached with some delicacy, as ** the colour of his Clothes is 
unknown, as he absconded in the night without his Clothes.*' 

Many also are the advertisements of losses of money and 
property through footpads, whether it be '* a lusty young fellow 
who wore his own hair " or '* a pock fretten man in a pair of 
everlasting Breeches"; or on Wimbledon Common **a, taU 
man in a blue Frock and a light Bob wig cm a bay Horse with 
a Swish tail, and look'd like a genteel galopping hunter." 

It is noteworthy that tJie numerous persons who were 
robbed seem always to have had time to observe every feature 
of their assailant, and every detail of his apparel, fit)m the 
lining of his waistcoat to the wearing of bis hair, and from the 
'' setting a good tail " of his horse to the other end of the 
animal, whether it were " rode with a Felham bit" 

Here is an advertisement for a warrant against a certain 
Jesse Boreham, suspected of having stolen from the Rev. Mr. 
John Mayonnet " a large silver saucepan, a parcel of Silver 
Pennys," and other necessaries of a clerical establishment. 
The s«d Boreham is — 

Genteely made, but stooping in his gate, makes him aj^ear nmnd shoidder'd^ 
his legs are long, and he has a remarkable Jirk in his Walk, his faea lather 


pale than fresh coloured with a dark Mark on one side of his Neck resembling 

Announcements of racing and cock-fighting recur regu- 
larly. Easter Monday seems to have been a favourite day for 
'' a match of Cocks " at 10 guineas a battle. An advertise- 
ment for Races on Bicton's Heath» near Shrewsbury, April 
1755» ends with '' There will be assanblies each night at The 
Raven, and Cocking as usual.'* 

Packs of hounds are occasionally advertised for sale, ** used 
to hunt both Fox and hare." 

The number of ** Sash'd houses " to let or to be sold is by far 
the largest item in the advertising columns. They always boast 
one or more dovecotes, well-stock'd fish ponds, and occasionally 
** there is also a good pew in the Church belonging to it." 

Of schools or seminaries there are but few mentions. 
Occasionally we come upon one such as that of Mrs. Young, 
who takes young ladies '' in a handsome sash'd House. • • • The 
young ladies to pay 12 pounds per year. The Entrance one 
guinea and a new silver spoon." 

As we turn over the yellow pages of the London Evening 
Post we cannot but regret that the Morning Post of to-day 
has not imitated it in one particular, namely that of mentioning 
the fortune of the bride in the announcement of marriage. 
** Mr. So-and-So to Miss So-and-So, a young lady of great 
merit and 1,500£ fortune." This good old custom has unfor- 
tunately become obsolete, and we venture to suggest to the 
Morning Post that its revival would add a new i^lement of 
interest to these always interesting announcements. 

The want of a Matrimonial News seems to have pressed 
heavily on the unmarried in the days of which we have been 
writing. There are several advertisements for wives, which 
shows how that courageous newspaper has met in our own day 
a long and deeply felt want of our ancestors. " A gentleman," 
we read, '' nearer the age of sixty than fifty " is on the look- 
out for a second wife " answerable to his years." He requires 
that she should be 


Of a Behaviour to do Dignity at the Table, and in the House of a man of 
fortune ; of a chearful disposition, without any deformity m her PerK>n : Her 
age implies that no extenud Beauties are required but , , , she must be plampi 
not bagged and lean. 

As I close these notes a report reaches me which shows 
that, even while these short pages were being written, another 
bound was being made in the direction of expansion on the 
part of the professional bounder. 

I hear (not on authority, therefore possibly correctly) 
that the white clifis of Albion are no longer to be left out in 
the cold as ** spaces to let" Possibly before these lines find 
their way into print that landmark of English eyes and hearts 
will be transformed into a belt of advertisements which, I 
understand, will at night be writ in fire. 

In the next war which the arrogance of other nations forces 
upon us we can imagine, as our hospital ships near our shoies, 
how the sorely wounded soldier will say to the comrade who 
supports him : 

" I'm goin' fast. Bill. Is ' Lemco ' in sight yet ? " 

" No, old chap, it ain't** 

" Have we passed * Labby's Lip Salve ' ? " 

" Not yet" 

While on the bridge the burly captain peers into the nig^t 
and says, " Dash my starry topsails if we aren't out of our 
course 1 " 

« No, sir," says the attendant bo'sun ; " that's ' Keating's 
Cough Lozenges ' a-showing up on our lee now." 

Ahl happy island, where the shout of the advertiser 
already re-echoes in our drawing-rooms, and will shortly greet 
the homing Briton from afar across the waves. 

Mary Cholmondeley. 



THERE is no more striking witness to the glamour of the 
Norman Conquest, and few more singular phenomena 
to be met with in our social history, than the craving to claim 
descent from a knight in the Norman host To the historian 
this phenomenon is well worthy of attention, for it has borne 
persistent testimony to the social catastrophe of the Conquest, 
to the fact that a foreign aristocracy had obtained possession of 
the land. So firmly implanted in the English mind was the 
Norman origin of our feudal nobility that, even when it had 
been largely supplanted by an aristocracy of later growth, 
Norman descent was still considered almost indispensable to a 
noble, and the demand for a companion of the Conqueror at 
the head of the family pedigree was one that the heralds of the 
past were willing enough to supply. Nor, it would seem, in 
the popular mind, has the old belief been much shaken ; in 
spite of the ever-increasing disappearance of our ancient houses, 
we still meet in the pages of the novelist, in the obituary notice, 
and in the personal paragraph, with the ancestor who ** came 
over with the Conqueror,'* and even with the family who have 
inherited their lands from that interesting personage without a 

Nor is it only in our own country that descent from a com- 
panion of the Conqueror is still coveted or claimed. I was 
recently told by a Professor of History at a famous American 


University that the genealogical books in its library were 
always in great request, for the purpose of tracing, not, as we 
might expect, descent from a ** Pilgrim father/' but from one 
of the Norman knights who accompanied the Duke to England. 
It is easy enough to ridicule the quest ; and yet there are pro- 
bably few among us who would not in their hearts be proud of 
a proved pedigree from the Conquest, who would not fed that 
it gave them, as it were, a share in our national history. We 
have only to open any of the books professing to record the 
descent of oiu* titled or untitled aristocracy to learn that it is 
still, as it always was, the ** blue ribbon " of descent. Coveted, 
claimed, disputed, its attraction is undiminished ; the families 
of to-day are as keen as those of the Tudor age on a founder 
who " came over with the Conqueror," who fought in his motley 
host, and who shared in the spoils of England. 

There are doubtless, therefore, very many who would be 
glad to know where to look for authentic information upon 
this subject, and who would feel a certain interest in learning 
to what extent a Norman origin can be proved for existing 
English families. The whole question of the Norman settle- 
ment, at the time of the Conquest, in this country is one that 
has received less attention than might have been expected 
from historians ; and this, no doubt, is one of the reasons of 
the misconceptions and popular delusions by which the subject 
is surrounded. It might well be imagined that Professor 
Freenum, in the five portly volumes he devoted to the Norman 
Conquest, would have dealt with so interesting a side of that 
great episode in our history ; but I think it may fiurly be said 
that he did not attempt to do so, possibly because it was a 
feature of the Conquest which did not particularly appeal to 
him. Moreover, on the question of the settlement as a whole, 
apart from its personal and local details, he is by no means a 
trustworthy guide; he appears, misled by the fables of the 
chronicler, to have vastly over-estimated the numbers of the 
Norman host, and, as I have shown in my " Feudal England," 
he had absolutely no conception of that system of tenure 


by knight service on which the Normans received their 

It is not only in the course of the researches which enabled 
me to explain that system that I have been led to make a 
special study of the personnel of William's following: when 
preparing for the Public Record Office the ** calendar of docu- 
ments preserved in France '* relating to English history in the 
eleventh and twelfth centuries, I visited each of the " depart- 
mental archives" of Normandy, and thus obtained a special 
knowledge of the records there preserved. And now, in work- 
ing on the feudal period for the great " Victoria History of the 
Counties of England," I am devoting particular attention, in 
each county, to the tenants-in-chief and under-tenants named 
in Domesday Book. It is in the course of this inquiry that I 
have been struck by the want of any authoritative work on the 
Norman settlers in this country. 

The main sources of information available at the present 
time may be briefly sununarised as follows : First and foremost 
there is "Domesday Book " (1086), in which are recorded the 
names of all the *' tenants-in-chief " (that is, of those who held 
directly of the Crown), and of their under-tenants, with the 
lands that were held by each just twenty years after the Battle 
of Hastings. Excellent, though perhaps not absolutely per- 
fect, indexes to the names will be found in Ellis's '' Introduc- 
tion to Domesday Book " (1888). A grievous gap of eighty 
years separates this priceless record from one of the utmost 
importance for the history of our oldest families, namely, the 
transcript of the feudal returns sent in by the " barons," or 
tenants-in-chief, in 1166. These returns contain the names of 
those who held of them by " knight-service," and it is in them 
that we . meet for the first time with the names of many 
knightly houses which are said to have come over with the 
Conqueror just a century before. A transcript of them has 
been oflicially published in the " Red Book of the Exchequer " 
(1896), but I have had to criticise that work severely, and it is 
to be hoped that the authorities will recall it and give us a better 


edition. In the meanwhile the reader should beware of the 
treatment of names in its index. The only records that help us 
to bridge the above gap are ** the great roll of the Pipe/' as it 
is termed, for 1180, and its successors from 1156 onwards ; and 
they are but of occasional assistance. There is, however, a great 
mass of valuable information on this subject to be found in the 
charters of religious houses. But Dugdale's *' Monasticon,*' 
unfortunately, contains no index of names, and only a small 
selection of charters. Societies are now slowly publishing the 
" cartularies " of our abbeys and priories, but the majority ot 
these volumes remain at present in manuscript 

On a footing altogether different from that of the above 
documents there stand three '* authorities " for the names of the 
Conqueror s companions. The first of these is the ** Roman 
de Rou," which did not appear till more than a century after 
the Battie of Hastings, but in which its author. Master Wace, 
professes to record the names of those who fought for William. 
The second is the most familiar and the most worthless of 
them all, the so-called Roll of Battie Abbey. The third is the 
modem list compiled by M. Lipoid Delisle, and now to be 
seen inscribed on a tablet in the church of Dives, the littie port 
where the Norman host assembled in 1066. 

It is obviously not possible to discuss in these pages the 
exact amount of credence to be given to Wace's names ; but 
as Planch^ made them the basis of his work, '' The Conqueror 
and his Companions " — a painstaking and meritorious book — 
something has to be said. In the first place, Wace was not 
a contemporary, and was consequentiy apt, as I have shown in 
my " Feudal England," to misunderstand his written authori- 
ties and to be confused by tradition. Le Provost in Nor- 
mandy and Taylor in England have both impugned his 
accuracy in details, and even Mr. Freeman admits that 
he mistook Roger for Robert de Beaumont. The question of 
his accuracy in the matter of names was raised in a friendly 
controversy between Mr. Freeman and Sir Henry Howortii as 
to the presence of no less a man than Roger de Montgomery 


at the battle. Mr. Freeman, indeed, went so far as to write 
that " Wace's account, with Mr. Taylor's notes, is a perfect 
nohiliaire of the Conquest,'' and to add that '' the names and the 
rewards of these men and of countless others are written in the 
great record of Domesday." But of the few names he selects 
from Wace we find that the very first is not to be found in 
'' Domesday." The two points that strike me personally about 
Wace's names are, firstly, that they included houses which 
had risen, or at least had obtained lands in England, at a period 
later than the Conquest; secondly, that he wrote as a 
Norman, in Normandy, for the Normans. He reminds us, for 
instance, of Roger de Beaumont, that — 

De cest Rogier en descendant 
Vint le lignage de Mellant. 

In Normandy, no doubt, Roger's descendant, in Wace's 
time, was the Count of Meulan ; but in England^is descen- 
dants were the Earls of Warwick and of Leicester. I gather, 
therefore, that Wace's interest was chiefly in those whose 
descendants were known to him as seigneurs in Normandy, 
where the story of the Conquest remained for centuries a great 
tradition. I further gather that, while mentioning some of the 
Breton houses, he ignored the names of those who hailed from 
the region to the north-east of Normandy, whence Flemings and 
seigneurs of the Boulonnais had flocked to William's standard. 

The so-called '' Battle Abbey Roll " is, as I observed above, 
doubtless the most familiar of the lists of the Duke's 
followers. Its evidence is still freely cited in the pages of 
" Burke's Peerage," and in those of his " Landed Gentry." It 
is a document of which we have most of us heard, and which 
few of us, probably, know anything about Mr. Freeman, not 
without good reason, wrote veith wrath of that '' transparent 
fiction," the " false roll of Battle;" and Mr. Joseph Hunter, who 
was specially qualified to pronounce an opinion on the subject, 
declared, after carefully weighing all that could be said in its 
favour, that we do not hear of such a Roll having even existed 


at Battle till we come to the days of Elizabeth. Some ten 
years ago, however, the Duchess of Cleveland gallantly 
endeavoured to vindicate the Roll as a genuine list of those who 
accompanied the Duke, in a notable work of three volumes, 
entitled "The Battle Abbey Roll" (1889). All that can be 
said in favour of the Roll will be found in that able and 
ingenious book, in which the names are rescued firom their 
corrupted forms, and the history of each family sketched with a 
brilliant touch. The sound genealogy and the literary grace 
by which the work is distinguished have failed to obtain due 
recognition owing to its advocacy of a hopeless cause, and to 
its reliance throughout on statements found in " The Norman 
People" (1874), an anonymcms work which the reader must 
be warned never to treat as trustworthy, 

The Roll is a mere list of surnames; it does not even 
pretend to give the names of individuals. It is so indisputable 
that some of these surnames are of later origin than the Con- 
quest that the Roll's apologists have had to plead ** interpola- 
tion " by the monks. That singular writer, Mr. Fox-Davies, 
asserts that ** the monks of Battle Abbey are known to have 
tampered with their roll," although it is not even " known " that 
the " Roll " was in their possession. I believe, however, that 
their presence is explained by the simple fact that the whole 
roll was composed at a later date — ^perhaps in the fourteenth 
century — and was only intended to be a list of families which 
had " come over with the Conqueror," that is, whose ancestors 
had done so. The great baronial house, for instance, of St. 
John of Basing, figures as '' St. John " on the Roll ; but it did 
not assume that name till the thirteenth century, its Domesday 
ancestor in the male line being Hugh " de Port," a tenant-in- 
chief. And for the name of " Port " we search the Roll in 
vain. Remembering that in no copy of the Roll are found the 
names of individuals, it is amusing to read in '' Burke's 
Peerage " that the founder of Lord Sefton's family, " William 
de Molines, one of the Norman nobles in the train